Untitled
by Angsty Glowstick
Summary: "No, Borya." Whispered like a prayer. Bryan leaves because his heart can't consume the rejection. Bryan x Yuri. COMPLETE!
1. In Pain

**Untitled**

_(Gosh can't think of any title for this one! Suggestions more than welcome!)_

**Disclaimer: **all ur beybladez r belongz 2 me! …No, not really.

**Summary: **"No, Borya." Whispered like a prayer. Bryan leaves because his heart can't consume the rejection. He comes back because he can't heal without facing the pain.

**Notes: **Part one of this Bryan x Yuri, long in the works (as they all seem to be, gah). I started this one at a time when, like Bryan, time hadn't helped me. Let's leave it at that.

Hope you like.

**xx**

The first time Bryan told Yuri, the other shook his head and said no, so Bryan left.

Time passed but he was still in pain and regretting that decision.

xx

In the midst of winter he left Moscow and went back to Siberia (1), his original birthland. He only told Sergei that he was leaving, and told no one where he was heading. Sergei had attempted to make him change his mind, but his heart had been too raw for him to listen. And so he set off, vowing to never return.

In Novosibirsk (2) he found an apartment and a job and tried to forget.

xx

Bryan worked and slept, worked and slept, worked and slept. Occasionally he drank, but he didn't do too much of that because when he did, everything would come gushing back.

He tried to move on, to love again.

(Did he really _love_ him? He didn't know what love was. But why else would he hurt so much?)

He saw women openly throw themselves at him. He saw men subtly flirting with him. And he_ tried_, he was eager. But there was nothing behind it all but blankness.

xx

He called Sergei once, assured him that he was fine. Sergei was silent and reserved, asked where he was, asked him to come back.

"I can't. I have a life here now," Bryan lied.

"Here where?"

"Here in Russia."

He attempted to sound sarcastic, playful, anything. But there was nothing and it only caused Sergei to get angry.

"Russia's the size of a goddamn continent. Tell me where you are."

"I want to ask you something."

The other gave a sigh of frustration. "Ask."

_How's Yuri?_ His mind asked, but he couldn't voice it.

"Nevermind. Bye Seryozha."

xx

Bryan worked and slept, and repeated. He went about his days in a state of calmness, but his heart burned. It burned for Moscow. It burned for the only family he had. It burned for Yuri.

He didn't like Novosibirsk but he didn't have the courage to leave.

_Coward_, he told himself once, on a rare occasion of a night out drinking, _you're a coward. Everything that happened to you, you deserve it. It happened because you're a coward._

He threw back shot after shot, until the man eyeing him up from across the club came over and lightly touched his back. Bryan looked at him as the man gave a seductive smile. His blonde hair was shoulder-length and wild, and he had glittering eyes the color of the ocean waves. The chains on his wrist jingled as his hand snaked up Bryan's spine. He leaned in.

"You're hot," he murmured, "I couldn't stop looking at you."

So Bryan took a last shot and followed him to the men's restroom.

xx

_Coward._

xx

_I was afraid_, he would tell himself absentmindedly sometimes, _I was afraid. That's why I left. _

_Afraid of being abnormal._

So when a customer walked in, he smiled at her and discussed her options with enthusiasm. She showed him the design and he helped her improve it. When she was all done, she winked at him and headed out.

Bryan realized that she'd left a slip behind, and on it was a number and _call me._ So he did.

He didn't get her name, though she did spend a whole night at his apartment.

xx

He was dreaming.

In his dream he saw himself in a field, and it was autumn and somehow beautiful. The scenery blurred and bubbled but he was… he was _free_. His mind was at ease. He had no worries. No pains. No regrets.

He was smiling and drifting and then, and then—

And then he woke up.

He breathed heavily as that blissful moment of in between dream and reality took hold of him, but then it quickly dissipated. He came aware, and with awareness his feelings came rushing back. His callous reality.

He rolled away from his bed and down onto his knees.

_When you're dreaming with a broken heart, the waking up is the hardest part__…_(3)

xx

_It was too sudden_, he thought one time while preparing dinner at home, _I shouldn't have done it like that. _

He remembered the night clearly, the electrifying blue eyes narrowed at him thoughtfully in the cold. The words tumbling from his mouth. The silence and wait after. And then,

"_No."_

Whispered like a prayer.

So he grit his teeth and decided he wasn't hungry after all.

xx

At work, he looked serene to everyone, and he bantered back and forth with his coworkers. One of their favorite subjects was his unmarked body, but he shrugged them off and continued working.

When he returned home late at night he pulled off his shirt and looked at the blank canvass of his skin. He examined every angle, tried to visualize scenes.

Then he decided that no, he didn't want to get inked yet.

xx

He decided to give Sergei another call half a year later. But Sergei didn't pick up, Yuri did.

"Yeah?" the disinterested tone sounded.

Bryan froze and then slowly cut off the line.

_I should've waited_, he told himself that night when lying in bed, _I should've took the answer and waited for him._

Then he flipped over, beat his pillow into submission, and scowled at the moon.

_It wouldn't have mattered_, he assured himself, _he_ _wouldn't never… he would've never._

_It doesn't matter._

xx

He called again the next week and this time Sergei did pick up.

"You're still alive then," said the dry voice.

"Expecting me dead?" asked Bryan interestedly.

"No, but maybe you'd like to let us know every now and then."

_Us._

"How are you," Bryan finally asked after a long pause, "and… everyone."

"We're fine. How's your new life going?"

"Fine."

"Better than the one you had here?" Sergei asked casually.

"Just… don't."

"Just come home, Borya. We're still waiting for you."

"We who?" Bryan asked.

"All of us. Yuri, Ian, and I."

"Bullshit," Bryan sighed before he could stop himself.

"And why's that?"

"…"

He hung up after a few words.

xx

A while later he took off his shirt and knelt before his mirror. He was exhausted from the long day and the non stop whirring of his mind. He craned his neck and looked at his shoulder with half lidded eyes. He wanted something there.

Maybe.

xx

Another night Bryan found himself once again in the bar. He was angry. Angry at his loneliness. Angry at not being able to move on. Angry that he still yearned for Moscow.

So he drank, and drank, and drank. He forgot about work. Forgot about his idiocy. Forgot about Novosibirsk.

But he couldn't get the image of Yuri out of his mind.

He chugged a bottle and asked for another, then closed his eyes. Yuri, forever imprinted in his mind. The burning hair. The freezing eyes. Two elements that only Yuri could unite, surely.

He heard the _thunk_ of another bottle being set beside him. His hand wrapped blindly around it, but he did not lift. Instead he was caught up in a breathtaking memory that he sometimes tried not to think about.

_It was New Year's Eve, and the Russian weather was bitterly cold. Bryan was feeling the sting of it close in around him_ (New Year's. Another year gone by, and nothing. His life was still empty) _and so he'd decided to step outside onto the balcony. It was frozen, and light flurries of snow tumbled from the sky and burned his eyes, face, neck._

_He was much too used to the cold._

_He had lifted his eyes and looked into the dark sky, lightless except for the few stars that were powerful enough to penetrate the pollution of the atmosphere. And then he'd heard a light noise behind him._

"_Borya," a voice murmured, quickly carried away by the wind._

_Bryan did not turn. His bare hands gripped the scorching railing more forcefully, and his heart clenched._

"_I hate the cold," he muttered._

_The form came to stand close behind him, and Bryan shivered for a completely different reason._

"_11.59," Yuri's voice mused. _

_Bryan leant forward on the railing, his eyebrows clashing into a frown._

"_New Year's," he spit out, "What's so good about it that people celebrate?"_

_Yuri was so close that he felt him shrug. Then his hand landed on Bryan's shoulder and he said, "Must be something."_

_Bryan looked up into the sky again, right on time when the blackness was suddenly overwhelmed by multi-colored fireworks emerging from every direction. He breathed in sharply; everything lit up in color. He could hear distant shouts and cheers and laughter. He slouched further onto the railing, only to feel arms encircle his waist from behind._

_His heart did a crazy flip, and his breath hitched in his throat. Yuri's arms embraced him loosely, but it was enough to make his heart thud._

"_Happy New Year's, Borya," Yuri whispered into his shoulder. _

_Bryan's hand fell to the hand resting on his stomach and gripped it. He felt strange warmth pooling in the area. _

"_Yeah…"_

Bryan almost shuddered at the memory. His lifted the bottle slowly and drained it. Just as he set it back he felt a light touch on his thigh. His eyes flew open only to see a dark-haired man smiling at him and giving him suggestive glances.

Bryan looked into the face for a moment—so unlike Yuri's—and smiled back. And then he pushed the hand away and stood, making his way out of the bar.

xx

The next time Bryan woke up, he was in pain. His mind swam, and he could not open his eyes, so he returned to the land of sleep.

**xx**

**Notes:**

**1.** Siberia: a vast region compromising the central and eastern parts of Russia.

**2.** Novosibirsk: the largest city in Siberia (third largest in Russia after Moscow and Saint Petersburg, respectively).

**3****.** Dreaming With A Broken Heart – John Mayer

YAY chapter 1 of (?). If you liked, review, so that I can be pushed to finish writing this story. There won't be a long wait for an update though because parts 2 and 3 are already written.

YOU KNOW YOU WANA KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT!


	2. Going Back

Chapter 2!

Thanks to my reviewers:

**n****eonwriter723: **well here it is. :)

**PandaPjays: **agreed on the alcohol, but you know people with drinking the pain away. Still, it's a bad thing. Your feedback made me very happy, and admittedly, I like that memory part too, it's very vivid in my imagination.

**Gabz: **wow, I never thought my writing would be described as sublime. I'm so flattered!

I have a request for my readers: if you guys can please give me name suggestions for this fic I would really appreciate it.

Enjoy.

**xx**

He saw Yuri standing, looking angered and with something like hate in his eyes. He reached out, but Yuri was far away… too far away. He simply stood and glared at him with those cold eyes. _You disgust me. You disgust me._

So he withdrew and his own eyes filled with tears, but the disgust only rose more clearly on those pale, chiseled features.

"Yuri," he gasped, "I—"

The countenance shifted; now Yuri looked indifferent and calculating.

"_No, Borya."_

Whispered like a prayer.

Bryan felt his tears fall and allowed himself to cry. All the pain and longing was suddenly flooding out, just this time; just once he would allow it out…

He felt a feathery touch, "Shhh, it's okay…"

Bryan turned away and sobbed away all of his heart's accumulated stress.

The touch allowed him; it fluttered nearby, comforting him, whispering things…

When his tears subsided he became aware of a sharp pain flashing in his temple. The rest of his body reacted in an ache. His eyes hurt from the brightness pressing upon them.

"Hey…"

Bryan slowly allowed his eyes to open. For a moment or two he stared into stinging brightness, and then his surroundings came clear with another sharp twinge of his head. He was staring at white—white sheets, white walls, white-clothed person… he blinked and saw the person more clearly.

"Where am I?" he croaked.

Warm brown eyes were looking at him with concern, belonging to a good-looking face. A doctor.

"Don't worry, you're fine," the man said, "You're in a hospital."

Bryan looked at him, felt his body's ache more severely.

"Why?" he asked.

The man—the doctor—sat down in a nearby chair and attempted to give him a reassuring smile. It only looked ominous to Bryan.

"It appears you were the victim of a hit-and-run. An accident, it seems, but you managed to acquire several broken ribs, a severely misplaced shoulder, and several cuts and bruises," at Bryan's look, he hurried on, "As I said, don't worry. Thank god you weren't walking in a very high speed area or it could have been much worse. You're on your way to healing."

That didn't make Bryan feel any better.

"How long I been out?" was the only thing he could manage to say.

"Two days," the doctor replied briskly, "And then you suddenly started writhing and…" he trailed off.

Bryan suddenly remembered the little crying episode, and felt shame and anger rise up in him. A private moment, occurring in worse enough circumstances. He looked away, not knowing what to do.

He felt the touch fluttering again, and realized that it was the doctor's hand as it gripped his.

"It's okay," the man murmured, "I'm glad you're awake. Don't hesitate if you need to talk to anyone."

Bryan turned away silently, and the doctor left after a few moments.

xx

To his resentment, he began to dream of Yuri every night in the hospital. Sometimes the dreams were different, but usually they recounted the moments of his rejection in strange ways. And every time he felt the longing burn and felt sobs well up in his chest.

The doctor had labeled him unfit to leave the hospital, and so Bryan stayed, angrily counting the moments as they dragged by. A few times he received visits from his acquaintances, who reassured him about his apartment and his work. He cared for none of that any longer, however. He wanted to go back to Moscow.

A week later the doctor conducted another check-up on him.

"Doing better all the time!" he exclaimed, "You're healing well, but you need more time."

"I want to leave," Bryan said through clenched teeth.

"Not yet, Mr. Kuznetsov. We have to ensure that the healing process is well underway before you can go."

Bryan looked at him through narrowed eyes.

"You can't keep me here against my will."

"We cannot release you yet, I'm afraid. It could be risky."

Bryan scoffed and waited pointedly until the doctor left.

xx

It was another two weeks before he was given another check up. The doctor did the examinations, some of which were slightly painful for Bryan. When he was done he pulled back and smiled.

"Well enough," he said.

"Well enough?" Bryan repeated.

"Yes, Mr Kuznetsov," the doctor replied, "I believe you have been eager to be released…"

Bryan raised an eyebrow, not wanting to raise his hope without being certain.

"You are free to leave but you have to be careful," the doc added, "your injuries are still fragile so you cannot put too much pressure on them or exert yourself. Understood?"

"Yes," Bryan answered quickly. He would have agreed to anything to be allowed to leave.

"Well then," the doctor smiled, "What are you waiting for?"

xx

Even though Bryan was only confined to the hospital for less than a month, it felt much longer to him. he could not believe that he was finally free. The first place he went to was his apartment, where he packed a bag full of stuff he might need. Then he went in to work.

His coworkers were pleasantly surprised to see him but were quick to be disdainful that he didn't call them upon release.

"We're your friends, you know," Lena told him crossly.

"I'm not back for work," he replied, and let them know his plans.

"Randomly like that?" Lena wondered.

"No…" Bryan sighed, "No, I have to make sure of something."

It was Ilya who inked him. When they were all done a few hours later, Bryan examined his tattoo in the mirror.

A wolf.

xx

He went back to his place, ensured that everything was as should be: his stuff packed, the place cleaned, his ticket booked. Then he left.

It was a two hour flight to Moscow, but to Bryan it felt like two days. When he finally touched down in Moscow airport, however, he felt that it had gone by too fast. Now he was back…in the midst of bustling travelers and their teary-eyed family and friends.

He was alone. No one knew he was coming, so no one was here to welcome him back. He sighed and set off down the terminal. There was no point in lingering.

He took a cab to his old residence, where his friends continued to live. After paying the driver and getting out, he stood with his luggage facing the house. Now that he'd finally made it, he was uncertain. For a long time he stood, not having the courage to walk up the driveway and knock on the door.

Hoping that someone would come out and see him was fruitless: no such thing happened. Finally, deciding that he could not do this yet, he made the decision to take a short walk to the nearby park.

Bryan had taken many a walk to that same park when he had still lived here. He approached a familiar bench and looked at it bitterly; it had been so long since he'd been here last. Then he turned away. He had to announce that he was back sometime.

xx

He knocked twice and waited nervously for someone to answer. A million possibilities ran through his mind. What if they didn't want him? What if they were angry? What if no one was home?

And Yuri, he was a whole different matter…

Any further thoughts were stopped in their tracks as the door began to swing open. He came face to face with none other than Yuri, who stopped and stared.

Bryan stared back, a million other thoughts rushing into him. His heart beat erratically as he looked into those smoldering eyes. For a long moment Yuri stared at him in shock, and Bryan felt tongue tied.

When he finally gathered his wits he said softly, "Hey…"

There was a noise behind Yuri but Bryan could not discern anything because the door had been shut in his face. A second later it was thrown open again, and this time Sergei stood in the doorway.

Sergei did not gape, did not look shocked. He merely ushered Bryan in with a surprised half-smile.

The second Bryan stepped through and set his bags inside, he was bowled over by something. Or rather someone.

"Borya!"

A dense form had jumped on his back and Bryan barely kept his balance.

"Ivan!" he grimaced in pain, "I can't breathe…"

But instead of Ivan getting off, Sergei came forward and crushed them both in a bear hug. Bryan gave up and allowed himself to be smothered between the two forms. Finally Sergei pulled back and flashed him a smile.

"Glad to have you back," he said.

And, despite himself, Bryan smiled back.

xx

They hauled his luggage from the hallway into the house and then swept him into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

"So?" Ivan demanded, "Tell us everything! What have you been doing these past two years?"

"A better question is this:" interjected Sergei, "Exactly where were you?"

"Yeah that too," Ivan agreed, "And how have you been living? Did you work? What did you work at?"

"And exactly how did you make it without us?" Sergei wondered.

"You're right, Seryozha. Cooking, cleaning… needing someone to prod you awake in the morning…"

"…Having someone to bully when you get angry…"

"Wait a minute…"

Both Sergei and Ivan turned on Bryan now and said together, "You haven't been living with anyone have you?" and Ivan added, "So is that why you left? To live with a girlfriend?"

"What? No!" Bryan exclaimed, disturbed. Throughout all of this the absence of Yuri hung over him like a shadow, "Guys. Not now, I'm tired."

"But…" Ivan began to protest.

"Let him rest," Sergei told him, "We'll hound everything out of him later." Then he turned to Bryan, "Your room is as you left it."

Feeling a warm gratefulness flood through him, Bryan merely nodded and began to climb the stairs to the upper level.

xx

The upper level was still and dark: the doors to every room were closed. Bryan sighed and walked slowly down the hall to the last door on the landing.

He had missed this place so much… unlike his apartment in Novosibirsk, it felt like a warm and welcoming place. His real home, where he truly belonged.

He opened the door to his room quietly, then closed it behind him. Upon looking up he saw the figure sitting on the bed.

"Oh—hi," he said, with a smile half out of happiness and half out of sadness.

"What took you so long?" Yuri asked quietly.

"To come back to get upstairs?" Bryan asked.

Yuri did not reply, just watched him with a mixed expression that Bryan could not read. He pressed his back against the door, almost afraid to venture in further. The room was really as he'd left it, except, perhaps, for being more tidy. The only sign of it having been in use was the unmade bed.

"So," he started awkwardly, "who's been sleeping here?"

Yuri got up menacingly and stalked towards him until they were face to face.

"How dare you," he hissed, "doing that… that—who do you think you are?"

"Bryan Kuznetsov," Bryan attempted to joke weakly.

He had not expected the slap and for a few moments stood, too shocked to register why his cheek was stinging. Before he could react, however, he was suddenly engulfed in what was more a death grip than an embrace.

"You bastard," Yuri was murmuring roughly into his neck, "Bastard bastard bastard…"

Bryan tried not to wince from the sudden ache in his damaged shoulder and ribs, but he did and Yuri caught it. The redhead stepped back, allowing the other to take his position against the door again. His eyes were narrowed.

"What happened to you," he demanded.

"It's nothing," Bryan tried to pass it off, forgoing the urge to rub his shoulder.

Yuri's temper was not to be tested it seemed, because the next second he had grabbed Bryan by the scruff of his shirt.

"You tell me right now or I'll make sure you're even more damaged. It would satisfy me. Somewhat, at least," he spat.

Bryan looked into those wild eyes and could not stop the smile from gracing his lips. Then he came forward and gave Yuri an embrace of his own, clinging to him closely.

"I missed you," he whispered, as though too shamed to admit it loudly, "God. So much."

Yuri shifted uncomfortably in his touch, his anger seeping out of him. Then he gripped back, more gently this time.

"You're the one who left," he accused.

"I didn't want to," Bryan admitted sadly, burying his face the soft red tresses, "I didn't, Yuri. You have to believe that."

"You left," the redhead simply repeated.

"Yeah," Bryan replied with a hollow chuckle, "I was in… it was too much. For me."

"Fuck," Yuri cursed softly, "Don't bring that back now."

Bryan's eyebrows clashed together and he closed his eyes, "As if you didn't guess that that was why I left."

Yuri was silent for so long that it forced Bryan to pull back and detangle himself. He stared determinedly into those piercing eyes.

"Do you want me back? Here, I mean," he asked bluntly.

The redhead breathed deeply, looking mesmerized by their eye contact. Then he looked away.

"Don't ask stupid questions."

Bryan walked away and sat slumped on the bed. He watched Yuri out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm not here thinking anything has changed," he clarified, "But know this: nothing has changed for me."

His words rang out, clear and of obvious meaning. It was Yuri who leaned against the door now, staring across at Bryan. For the first time, there was a fearful glint in those eyes.

"I want you here," he said, "But… that…I—"

And as he stood there, looking utterly uncertain, Bryan looked at him and then finally graced him with a smile. Then he held out his hand.

"I understand," he said softly, despite the pang in his chest.

Yuri took the offered hand, allowed Bryan to pull him to sit on the bed as well. Then they simply talked. Bryan told him about where he'd gone, what he'd done, how he had decided to come back.

And Yuri sat and listened intently.

**xx**

Five reviews for next chapter? Please?

Ciao until then.


	3. Never Easy

Chapter 3!

**Thanks for ****all of your lovely reviews:**

**PandaPjays: **when I first saw your review I was like "O.o Novel!" but I love it! Thanks for taking the time to write so much, in such detail. I still haven't made up my mind about the title, but I will eventually, promise. About the whole relationship thing, I hope this chapter clears that up. It was always coming, but your review made me realize I should clear it up sooner rather than later. Also, if you're into Bryan-slapping, then keep reading this story, hahahaha. That's all I'm going to say though, I don't want to give things away!

**Gabz: **aw man, I hate that when it happens to me. I think Tala's super confused, he just doesn't know how to reconcile the long-standing friendship he had with Bryan with something new. But he'll get there, eventually. About Bry's hospital bill? Hun, this is fanfiction, we don't go that deep. xD

**Neonwriter723: **glad you're liking it. The chapters are probably going to be around this length, though, sorry! I just want to keep the pace, but I'll try my best to update pretty quickly.

**NeKot: **I hope you haven't really been waiting in your chair for the past four days. :) Hopefully that wasn't too long for an update.

I'll keep my fingers crossed that you guys (and anyone who reads!) will like this part as well.

**xx**

It took a while for Bryan to get his bearings the next morning. He had gone to sleep as expected in his old room, old bed. When he woke up after what seemed to be the most restful shut-eye he'd had in a while, he was confused for a few minutes. Then reality was brought back to him.

He stretched out from his position and sighed.

Downstairs he could hear a faint commotion, but he was spared having to investigate when the door suddenly opened. Sergei let himself in without reservation.

"Oh, you're awake," he said amiably.

Bryan yawned, then asked, "What's up downstairs?"

"The usual," Sergei waved his hand as though that alone could explain it, "Ivan's eaten the last of Yuri's fave crunchies. Yuri is not happy. Ivan refuses to admit blame."

Whereas once upon a time the words would have made Bryan groan and roll his eyes, now they made him pause in his task of detangling himself from his sheets. Sergei, seeming to understand, sent him a smile.

"Missed that, haven't you?"

Bryan looked away and shrugged, but could not ignore the blonde's next words as he pulled himself out of bed.

"Don't worry, a few days and you'll wish you're still able to miss it. All the bantering that goes on around."

He looked up and met Sergei's eyes, seeing the hinted question in them. Bryan gave him a semi-grin.

"Here to stay," he confirmed.

"For good?"

A pause, and then, "For good."

Sergei chuckled and instructed him to join them downstairs before letting himself out of the room.

xx

Bryan took a quick but hot shower, and came out feeling at ease. He towel-dried his hair, ran a brush through it, and then mindlessly threw on the first things of his he could find: a pair of baggy slacks and a tank top.

Only upon walking into the kitchen did he realize the great mistake he'd made. Ivan and Yuri had abruptly ceased their ongoing argument at the sight of him and stared. Sergei, pausing in his task of eating, eyed him apprehensively. Absolutely unnerved, Bryan still could not find it in him to back out, which would have only made his predicament more obvious.

So Bryan steeled his courage.

"Morning," he said, trying to sound neutral.

Ivan continued to gape, but Bryan ignored both him and Sergei. He could not, however, ignore the continued icy stare on his back and finally allowed himself to look Yuri in the eye.

Yuri began to move in a slow, measured pace. He stalked towards him, and, catching Bryan off-guard, grabbed his arm and pulled it up to see more clearly.

"You said it was a light accident," his tone sounded accusatory.

"What… happened?" Ivan intoned slowly, giving the laceration a cautious glance as though trying to measure out exactly how much that had hurt.

Bryan cursed himself for being stupidly forgetful. The scar, starting on his previously misplaced shoulder and running down to his forearm, was ugly, jagged, and still fresh-looking. It had apparently been caused by shattering glass as he'd impacted with the windshield, he'd been told (well at least the bastard who'd hit and left him had car damages to deal with). It had been stitched closed and had only recently healed enough to this state.

He pulled his arm free, but all three now crowded around him and killed his chances of escape.

"That looks very painful," Sergei was saying as he examined the laceration. "Please don't tell me the 'accident' involves your involvement with a gang," he pulled back and stared Bryan down, as though daring him to confirm.

Bryan scowled at the three faces. Why were gang relations a given where he was concerned? He didn't feel comfortable telling them that he'd been so wasted he'd walked out onto the street and was struck, and now didn't even remember anything of the accident itself.

"I had an accident. _Car_ hit me," he explained, hoping to dispel worse assumptions and to end the matter, and yet wincing when he remembered what he'd told Yuri, "But as you can see, I'm well and _not_ in a vegetative state. So it's fine."

He hated the concerned look Sergei gave him, and the perturbed look on Ivan's face. But he could not even bring himself to look at the anger within Yuri's eyes.

Moving away, Bryan pretended to busy himself with getting breakfast.

Anything to escape Yuri's unrelenting gaze.

xx

They let him have his peace (as much peace as one could possibly have while having one's every move watched) as he attempted to have breakfast. After a few bites Bryan promptly pushed the food away. He couldn't eat while being stared down.

"Yes?" he demanded impatiently.

"Done eating? Good," Yuri sneered smoothly, "Now you can tell me the _real_ version of what happened. One that doesn't involve, you know, _falling off your fucking non-existent bike_!"

"Us," Sergei put in, "Tell us."

"So everything you fed me last night was bullshit?" Yuri continued heatedly, talking over Sergei, "'Oh, I fell off my bike, got a few bruises, Yuri, a few _tiny_ fucking bruises! THEN, I was almost_—_catch that, _almost—_ hit by a car and thought that I should get my ass back here because I've disappeared for two fucking years and what if, what if, I _die_, before—'"

"Okay, I lied!" Bryan cut in, jumping to his feet, "I lied. What do you want me to say? Huh?" he found himself in Yuri's face, glaring into those rage filled eyes, "Coming back, suddenly like that, and you want me to say, 'Oh hey, I really could've died, you know. Hit by a car! Feel bad for me?' is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Maybe I wanted to hear some truth after you disappearing on us for two years!" Yuri shouted.

"Well the last time I told you the truth—" Bryan stopped, seeing Yuri's expression slacken, and faltering himself. He was so stupid. So, so stupid. "I…"

"Enough," Sergei ordered. His arm came to slice cleanly between them, pulling Yuri back.

Yuri shoved the blonde away and stormed out. Bryan forcefully tossed the spoon he'd been holding all along on the table.

"Fuck!" he swore.

He was grabbed unexpectedly by Sergei and pushed into a seat. Bryan unwillingly winced from the rough gesture.

"Didn't mean to do that," Sergei told him, pulling back quickly, "You okay?"

The lilac-haired man rolled his eyes.

"Do I look like a fucking china doll to you?" he snarled.

Ignoring him, Sergei turned to Ivan, who'd been silent and still throughout the ordeal, and said, "Find Yuri. If he wants to be left alone, don't push it."

Nodding mutely, Ivan left the kitchen.

Sergei turned to Bryan, considered for a moment, and sat down himself.

"Look, if you're going to give me a speech, don't bother," Bryan sighed.

"No. _You_ look," Sergei replied, and his tone made it clear who was in charge, "He's got every right to be going off. Let him get it out of his system."

"He's the one who—"

"You left. He won't get over it easy. Remember that, and it should all go over smooth," Sergei interrupted.

Bryan stewed in his frustration for a moment then asked, "And you? And Ivan? Totally _fine_ with things? Nothing to get out of _your _system?"

He should've known that things wouldn't just be OK with his return. Bryan thought he had a right to know at least exactly what, and with whom, he'd be dealing with. Not that _they_ didn't have _every right_ to give _him_ hell for what he'd done.

Sergei sat quietly for a moment or two, contemplative, before answering.

"You, leaving us back then, it affected all of us," he started, "We weren't fine with that. You didn't even give us the least we deserved, which was an explanation. You left, and that was it. You called, what, two, three times? And wouldn't tell us where you were. You only thought of yourself," he held up a large hand to silence Bryan's attempt to speak, "But Ivan and I, well, we'd had _ample time _to think over things, and we talked about it. We don't know what's going on, but we know it has, _had_, to do with you and Yuri. How Yuri's reacting is no surprise to us. So we decided to make your return… easier by just staying neutral about things ourselves."

Bryan was simply speechless. Finally, he asked, "And how were you so sure that I would return?"

Sergei shrugged, "We weren't. We just had a pretty good intuition, I guess."

"Then why," now Bryan demanded, feeling ashamed of himself, "would you even bother? Wouldn't it be easier to just say to me, on the doorstep, 'too late, goodbye'?"

"No," Sergei gave him a look that made him unable to meet the blonde's eye, "_We_ don't let go of things that easily."

Bryan bit his lip almost hard enough to make it bleed, his eyes averted in self-anger at the kitchen table. Sergei seemed to wait for him to reply, but shrugged and got up when he realized that that wasn't going to happen. He was at the kitchen door when Bryan's words stopped him.

"I'm sorry."

It was so quietly issued it could have been easily missed. But Sergei turned around, and Bryan defiantly met his eye. The blonde's stony face then slowly broke into an engaging smile.

"That's a good way to start doing things," he commended, then left.

Bryan shook his head and decided that doing the morning dishes would be a good second step.

xx

That afternoon, Bryan found himself pacing in front of Yuri's door. Every time he reached it, he would extend his hand out to knock, then would lose his nerve. On the seventh time this happened, he turned away from the door to Sergei's fiercely scowling face. The blonde gave Bryan a _do-it-or-I-will-kick-you-inside_ look. Beside him, Ivan shrugged and made a gesture as though advising Bryan to follow Sergei's orders.

Bryan turned away and knocked before he could think about it. There was no answer. He knocked again, to no avail.

"I'm coming in," Bryan talked through the door, and was relieved to find his voice steady, "Yuri."

He carefully turned the handle and pushed the door open only wide enough for him to slip through before clicking it shut again. The room was shadowy, and to his utter relief and disappointment at once, Yuri's form was on the bed, apparently sleeping.

Bryan turned to leave, thought about it, and turned back. He advanced slowly, watching the red hair splayed out on the pillows. Yuri was turned the other way so Bryan couldn't see his face. Reaching the bed quietly, Bryan slowly lowered himself onto the edge and reached out, his heart constricting in odd intervals as he looked upon the form.

Just before his hand made contact with the soft-looking, crimson tresses, a hand came up and snatched his own.

Bryan gasped. Yuri turned to him without letting go of his hand. The icy eyes were narrowed.

"Can't you get a hint? I don't want to talk to you," he said quietly.

Bryan let his hand slacken, felt Yuri's do as well. Then, taking the redhead in surprise just as he had been taken, he linked his fingers with Yuri's and held on.

He looked away, "I… I am sorry."

He was acutely aware of Yuri not attempting to pull his hand free.

"That's not always good enough."

The tone was mild, but left Bryan feeling foolish for thinking that his apology could mean much, sincere as it was, just because Spencer was kind enough to accept it. He could still feel Yuri's gaze cutting into him.

"Now," Yuri continued in the same manner as he had spoken earlier, "If you'd let go of my hand, we could figure something out."

Bryan released his hold as though burned in his haste to comply, feeling disgustingly stupid, and ridiculous, and…

"I overreacted earlier," Yuri informed him, sitting up, and cutting Bryan's thought process short.

"What?" Bryan turned to him, "Yuri—"

"Shut up, Kuznetsov. Just shut the fuck up and let me talk."

He nodded without protest.

"I _did_ overreact. And you riled me. You should've shut the fuck up, as you're doing now, and let me go at it. But me saying that," Yuri continued, "Does not mean I forgive you. You did leave. And you did feed me a bullshit story. Are we clear?"

When Bryan said nothing Yuri rolled his eyes, "You have permission to speak."

Bryan sighed and ran a hand over his face. Then he smirked, meeting Yuri's eyes, "Better than nothing, I guess. How do I start with getting you to forgive me?"

Yuri slid down again to lay on his stomach.

"A thorough back massage would not be bad."

Bryan was silent for so long that Yuri looked back with a quirked eyebrow.

Bryan laughed without any real humor, "Okay, I don't want to refuse, and I don't want to make things awkward, but…"

"But what?"

"You… you do realize that I'm really… attracted? To you?"

Now Yuri did not reply until Bryan began to worry that he had just utterly destroyed the little making up they had done a few moments ago.

"You used to give me back massages, before… Before. Let's get things back to normal," the redhead stated, indifferently, and looked expectant.

So Bryan reached out, and with as little contact as possible, eased Yuri's muscles the way the redhead had often demanded of him.

All the time, he was thinking, _but it was never easy_.

**xx**

OMG IT'S GETTING CRAZAYYYYY!

Ok. No, I apologize. I don't know if this chapter was not in character, or was a bit unrealistic, fast paced, confusing… the list goes on. I hope you'll wait for things to play out.

Important note: it might seem odd that BryYu had a talk, had a fight, had a talk, and then went back to an old habit that easily (the massage) but really, I think they're just desperately trying to act natural about the situation because gosh, it's awkward. And I mean, Yuri, he's trying way too hard at the end over there isn't he? Hahaha.

Everybody's just trying to be civil, I guess. That doesn't mean everybody's really okay with everything. I don't even know, and I'm the writer.

…

I demand reviews.

…

I'm joking, I'll ask nicely: please?


	4. The Wolf

As usual, the review section:

**Panda: **Stay at this rate and you'll be writing longer reviews than I write chapters in no time! Joke, hun, I don't mind at all. The more in review the better, in fact! The tank top thing I'm going to have to dismiss; I live in Canada and it's a frozen hell over here, and despite being a 'brrr' kind of person, I wear tanks and shorts at my (heated) home. Or Bryan could be like my father, who goes outside in the middle of our crazy winters in t-shirts! Either way, even though I haven't mentioned in fic, I imagine this to be set around spring (which, I know, isn't saying much since this is _Russia_). And yes, Bryan is a badass. A very, very sexy badass. Slappage is coming soon, even if your urges decrease for now (they will increase later) And Sergei, he's mah homie! He has a kind of _I'm-older-and-more-mature_-_and-I-shall-keep-you-in-line_ sort of role here, which is needed I'm sure. Once I again I am absolutely floored by how much you derive from my writing, and how thoughtful you are in feedback. Thanks for all the praise, continue feeding the ego! Haha.

About the whole hospital issue: I do know of the general situation in Russia, but, though I am a research kind of person, I haven't really looked into how the medical system works over there. That's because well, the fic doesn't revolve around that whole car fiasco. It's a good thing that I have you to give me the facts though! And Bryan not dying… I think we can look at it this way: yes, the general prospects in ze old Soviet nation aren't great, but that's never all there is to the issue. You'd be surprised at the many possible exceptions (here I'm just applying my personal knowledge of a few other 'run-down' countries, where people who hear of them cringe but in reality it's not THAT bad). Thanks so much. Keep rocking out these long ass reviews!

**Edit! **After writing this long long response, I went and looked up Russian healthcare. Sure it's nowhere on par with the West, but it doesn't seem _that_ bad anyway.

**Neon: **I kinda flinched when I read your review because I was thinking, "Aw man, am I making this whole thing confusing?" Maybe it's not straight forward, but it starts with Bryan telling Yuri he's _like so totally _into him and Yuri rejecting the poor guy. Bryan leaves, gets run over (the idiot!) and comes back. The rest of the fic kicks off from there. Thanks for the review!

**GabZ: **Haha, well, I had nothing else to say about that since I slacked off and didn't bother looking that deep into my own fic. But anyway, the interaction between the two puppies will increase to palpable levels and then _snap!_ Oops, spoiler? I meant to update much earlier but life duties kept calling. But what matters is that this is the update, right? Oh, and thanks hun.

**Nekot: **When I read 'both finish together' my went whooooosh into the gutter. Haha, I'm so sorry. But yes, it's a little tense right now, they're kind of trying to slap it on but things don't work like that. Thank you, and sorry for taking long this time around.

Whoop. Just the review answers are a chapter in themselves. That's all you guys are going to get.

…

No, just kidding. Read on.

Okay, a few things:

Firstly, I think that this fic is now officially named Untitled. Nothing seems to fit, so I'm going to leave it.

Second, sorry for the slight delay to update. I was both really busy and incredibly demotivated. I offer a longer update in reconciliation. _Much_ longer. All good? –hopes-

I also hope you like it!

**xx**

Bryan's bedroom door banged open.

"Bryan!"

Bryan moaned and threw his pillow over his head, muffling the rest of the screeching that assaulted his being. He flipped over and ignored the noise.

"Bryan! _Kuznetsov!_"

"WHAT!" he demanded, blearily pushing himself up.

"I said, have you seen my hair gel?"

Bryan squinched his eyes shut then reopened them, attempting to shake the sleep away. Finally, he stared groggily at the open doorway, where a very harassed-looking Yuri stood.

"Your, what?—no!" he sighed, silently cursing the redhead for giving him a violent wake up call.

"Then where is it?" Yuri exclaimed, his freshly washed hair mussed all over the place. "I can't find it!"

Bryan breathed in deeply, then asked very slowly in a very measured tone, "Look, why the _heck_ would _I_ know where _your_ stupid hair gel is?"

"It's not stupid," Yuri threw back, "I looked everywhere, I can't find the damn thing."

Their eyes met, and Bryan looked into those exasperated icy eyes. He ruffled his own hair, then dropped back onto his bed.

"And you _had_ to scare me awake?" he complained, turning away to snuggle into his sheets again.

Yuri sat on the bed beside him, "Get up. Get up now."

"Leave me alone, I'm tired," Bryan groaned.

"No, look, you have to get up and get me some hair gel!"

Bryan pushed himself up again, getting absolutely irritated.

"Now why would I do that?" he demanded, "you come screaming into my room, ruining _my_ sleep, and now you're basically ordering me to go out and buy you something as dumb as hair gel?"

"It's_ not _dumb. I can't go outside without it," Yuri said earnestly, running his fingers through his long locks of crimson hair, "Just, please?"

Bryan threw his head back and stretched his neck before looking back at the redhead, "I'm sure you can do without it until I get a few more hours of sleep."

"No, I can't," Yuri told him seriously, "And it's already ten, you've slept enough."

"Ten?" Bryan asked in surprise, checking his clock for confirmation before pushing the sheets away and getting up, "And, okay, why the heck can't you ask Sergei or Ivan or something."

"Sergei's at work. Ivan's at school. It's his last year of secondary school," Yuri reminded him.

"Oh. Oh, right," Bryan responded, feeling stupid. He fidgeted with his shirt, then looked up. "You don't need hair gel. You look fine without it."

"Fine?" Yuri raised an eyebrow.

"Uh—"

"_Just_ fine?" the other clarified.

Bryan stared at him for a while, trying to figure out what exactly the redhead was asking for. He had a lot of words much better than 'fine' that he could use, but he just wasn't sure that the other would appreciate it. Then at last he said, "You should stop using so much hair gel. Your hair looks good like that. Better, even."

He allowed himself a moment to consider exactly how good Yuri looked with his soft hair down, framing his face, before snapping himself back to reality.

Yuri ran his fingers through his damp tresses again before shaking his head. There was an awkward silence for a moment.

Then Yuri broke it as he got up to leave, "You still have to go out. I have grocery duties, and since _I'm not going anywhere_, you're getting them instead. And oh, do get me some hair gel or you will be locked outside until you do." He stood at the doorway and sealed the threat with an _I-would_ look.

"Wait a—"

Yuri smirked at Bryan before shutting the door after himself, effectively cutting off any protests.

xx

_Damn you, Ivanov. Damn you,_ Bryan thought irritably as he stood in the hair care isle at the local market, _damnnnn youuuuuuuu._

He was intimidated by overwhelming shelves upon shelves of shampoos, conditioners, mousse, sprays, gels, creams… you name it, it was there. With a final resolute sigh, Bryan began walking down, scanning for… for?

He cursed mentally as he realized that he didn't even know what he was looking for. Hair gel, sure, but what kind? Yuri had neglected to let him know the brand, and he couldn't for the life of him remember the one the redhead used from the time before he had left… the only thing he could remember was that it was a yellow tube. Yellow? Or maybe it was red. Hmm..

Scowling, Bryan began grabbing one of every legit-looking product even remotely connected to hair gel and tossing the containers into the shopping cart along with the groceries as he sped past. He ended up with eight different products.

He had _no_ intention of being banned from house access.

xx

Yuri stared incredulously at the pile of hair products on the table. He gingerly picked one up, looked at the label, and tossed it away with a grimace.

"That one is horrid," he informed Bryan, "Tried it once, wouldn't hold _and_ made my hair greasy. And wait a moment, _what the hell_?" he gestured helplessly at the display.

"Then thank whatever's out there looking out for me that I had some foresight," Bryan muttered, rolling his eyes as he hauled the grocery bags into the kitchen. He remerged and said accusingly, "You send me off to buy you hair gel without telling me what exactly you want, and without any warning that there are about a million different options!"

Yuri picked up another container, then set it back on the table after sparing it a look, "Okay, yes. But there aren't a million brands. You could've just used your common sense."

He looked back at Bryan's heated glare for a moment before finally sighing, "Alright, alright. This," he picked up a green tube, "is the one I use, and no other. Deal with the rest."

And before Bryan could throw back a comment, he disappeared with said tube in hand. Bryan growled and threw the rest of them on the couch before dropping on it himself and putting his feet up on the table. He grabbed the TV remote.

It was _not_ his responsibility.

xx

Bryan was a man on a mission that evening.

He crept up onto the second landing, hearing the music blaring from a nearby bedroom door. With what he thought was a commendable stealth he approached the door and threw it open.

Ivan looked up from his homework-in-bed, startled.

"What the—"

Bryan slammed the door behind him and glared at the younger boy as he stomped over to the radio and ferociously clicked it off.

"Listen very well because I will only ask this once. Did you or did you not steal Yuri's hair gel?" he asked calmly.

Ivan stared meekly back at him in an attempt at defiance but was quick to wilt under Bryan's heated gaze.

The younger of the two sighed, "Alright… I admit. I thought it'd be funny, imagining his reaction."

Bryan growled.

"I—I guess not," Ivan flinched, "Not funny at all."

"And what do I get from getting the brunt of your stupid little prank?" Bryan demanded, "And I better be getting something, seeing as oh, I don't know, I was rudely jerked awake by an almost hysterical someone _and_ made to go buy hair gel, which, I assure you, is no easy task!"

Ivan listened solemnly to this little rant before unsurely venturing with, "You could… help me with my homework?"

He flinched again even before the smack landed upside his head, then rubbed at the area sourly.

Bryan sat beside him, "Now, about that homework…"

"Really?" Ivan asked excitedly, "This is got me totally stuck, it's—"

Bryan took one fleeting glance at the mind-boggling math equation and was on his feet again faster than lightning.

"On second thought," he amended, "Let this be your punishment. I hope your teacher flags you tomorrow for doing it wrong."

And whistling triumphantly, he ceremoniously let himself out. He heard Ivan give a yell of frustration as he strolled back down the hallway to his own room. Bryan smirked.

xx

"When in doubt, ask Sergei," Yuri announced as he invited himself without prior warning to Bryan's bedroom.

Bryan looked up from his laptop, back to it, upward, and down again. He closed it, set it aside, and directed his full attention to the redhead with a raised eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

Yuri threw himself down on the bed beside Bryan, "Ivan's mathematically challenged. Sergei makes it his business to individually learn a lot of mundane crap. Perfect match," he put his arms behind his head and relaxed before turning to look at Bryan, "I think Sergei should quit his security job and start tutoring instead."

"He'd probably make a good tutor too, the smartass," Bryan snorted.

"So?" Yuri asked.

Bryan spared him a glance. "So what?"

"What did you do when you were in Novosibirsk?"

"Work-wise?" Bryan answered, thrown off by the abruptness, "Uh, tattoo shop."

Yuri blinked, and blinked again. "Of all things… I didn't expect that. How'd you get into it?"

"It's not easy finding work, you know," Bryan shrugged, "I was walking around asking if anybody could hire and saw this parlor. Thought hey, why not, since I mean, I had so many job offers piling up," he added sarcastically, "So I go in and ask. And this girl there, Lena, she really took a liking to me or something. I worked as an apprentice for a while to learn it and…" he trailed off with a the-rest-is-history kind of gesture.

Yuri just watched him, slightly unnervingly. Then he said, "Tattoos. You got some?"

At this point Bryan fidgeted uncomfortably. "Just one," he said at last, hoping Yuri wouldn't ask to see it.

The redhead sat up.

"Well?" he asked expectantly.

Bryan also pushed himself into a sitting position. "Well what?" he played dumb.

"Show me."

The words were more an order than a request. Bryan breathed in, gathered his courage, and turned his back to Yuri. Then he grabbed his t-shirt and scrunched it up and over his head before tossing it aside.

There was only silence as Yuri looked upon the magnificent wolf painted on Bryan's shoulder in black ink. Bryan closed his eyes and waited for a reaction, but couldn't stop the slight tremor that ran through him as the other's cold fingers ghosted over his skin, lightly examining the etching by tracing it.

Yuri had his fill before his hand fell firmly on Bryan's shoulder and urged him to turn to him. They looked into each other's eyes, Yuri's calculating and Bryan's captivated.

Bryan felt himself getting lost in those eyes, and knew that he should look away or move away before he did something stupid. But he couldn't. He was entranced as Yuri's hand slowly moved off his shoulder and then—

The moment of electrifying silence was suddenly and utterly destroyed as they heard Ivan come running up the stairs, sounding like a herd of angry, stampeding hippopotamuses.

Bryan spun back around and just had enough time to hastily throw his shirt on again before Ivan came barging in.

"Does no one ever knock in this house," Bryan complained loudly, vexed.

Ivan, looking gleeful, thrust a piece of paper at the other two occupants to see.

"In your face," he jeered, "Seryozha's a genius. Homework? Check. And done correctly, mind you."

Bryan looked at the sheet with a deadpan stare, "How exciting," he said boredly.

The youngest one stuck his tongue out in a very childish manner and hightailed it out again, leaving the door ajar.

Yuri got up to leave also.

"I'll leave you to whatever I interrupted earlier," he said, gesturing towards the laptop.

Bryan nodded mutely.

xx

Bryan was left to ponder what Yuri thought of the significance of his tattoo late into the night.

He lay in the dark, seeing the redhead's sharp, calculating gaze behind his eyelids. In that breathless moment when Bryan turned to Yuri and they looked into each other's eyes, when time seemed to slow to a stop around them, they had seemed on the threshold of something. And then of course it was all ruined by Ivan, who thoughtlessly and ignorantly interrupted, bringing them plunging back to reality.

It bothered Bryan greatly that he didn't even know what that moment had been. He had no clue what they had been on the edge of… Yuri pulling away and throwing an offhanded remark? Yuri saying something meaningful right to Bryan's face, _through_ his being? Bryan cowardly pulling away? Or perhaps Bryan dumbly moving forward, to the point of no return…

Bryan knew that he would have, at that moment, kissed Yuri. He could have, having been so close to him. And the thought of that depressed him. It wasn't that he'd never thought of kissing Yuri before, of course he had. He had considered that and perhaps much more, but he'd never had a moment with the redhead when they were face to face, with a tense crackle in the air between them, with Bryan feeling like he'd been struck dumb, feeling like he could have, if he had wanted to, leaned forward and had a first taste of those lips, consequences be damned.

He didn't know if he was glad or disappointed that he hadn't taken the opportunity.

And the look in those sky-blue eyes had been so unreadable, detached, shielded. Why was Yuri so close and yet so far away?

Bryan sighed, turned around, and allowed himself to drift to sleep.

He dreamt of his rejection.

xx

Bryan woke up the next day with a familiar heaviness, a heaviness that had been elevated briefly upon his return and had now settled back in full force.

xx

The week passed, and each day was worse for Bryan.

The four boys in the residence had their occasional spats but otherwise got along fine, with Sergei maintaining a watchful glare to keep everyone in line. Occasionally Sergei or Ivan would casually ask Bryan about tidbits of his absence, and he'd answer, and they'd nod or laugh or roll their eyes. And yet Bryan could tell that they were waiting for him to come to them and spill his guts: why did he leave? _Hurt._ What was going on between him and Yuri? _Nothing. _What were the details of his car accident? _Can't remember._

Bryan kept evading the issue but could see the expectant looks in their eyes. And while Ivan would try to prod sometimes, Sergei was as patient as ever.

But that wasn't what was really bothering Bryan.

He couldn't stop thinking about Yuri. Just being around the redhead was so much and yet not enough. And the thought of kissing Yuri was driving him insane; he wanted to do it so badly and yet knew that he couldn't. But what if he did, and what if it changed Yuri's mind?

The two of them were mostly back to the way they were before Bryan had left, before he'd confessed. But there were always those moments when things got awkward. Moment when Bryan didn't know what exactly Yuri was getting at, or what Yuri wanted, and Yuri simply would continue acting ambiguous. He was slowly and unknowingly (or perhaps intentionally?) driving Bryan up the wall.

Bryan had not been expecting anything. He hadn't come back to Moscow thinking anything had changed, and yet it was still highly depressing because a tiny, hidden hope within him was dying.

It all came to a resolution when Bryan, feeling utterly dejected, went out and bought a pack of cigarettes. He'd picked up the habit in Novosibirsk, and had given it up with promises of never returning.

Now though, all Bryan could think was _fuck that_ as he stood outside in the dark and lit one up. He'd barely had one heavenly, stress-easing drag when the front door opened, spilling light outside.

"What are you—" Yuri stopped midsentence, seeing the answer to his question clearly.

Bryan cursed himself for not bothering to put distance between the house and himself before indulging. "Go back inside," he told the other instead, turning away. He brought the cigarette up and took another long drag.

Behind him, the door closed and plunged the surroundings into darkness again. But Yuri had not heeded his request. He stepped over to Bryan to face him then pried the cigarette away and tossed it onto the sidewalk.

"Since when do you smoke?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Bryan shook his head and pulled away, "Can't a guy kill himself in peace?" he threw back half jokingly and half exasperatedly as he attempted to light another.

Yuri grabbed his hand to stop him.

"And here I was thinking you'd appreciate your life a lot more, since you came so close to dying recently," he said.

Bryan stilled; he hadn't meant this to become a serious talk. Mulling over what to say for a moment, he took his time putting the cigarette pack and lighter back into his pocket.

Finally he responded with, "I barely remember anything."

Yuri eyed him contemplatively for a moment, then motioned that they start walking. Bryan fell into step with him, knowing instinctively that they were headed to the nearby park.

"How'd it happen?" Yuri urged.

Bryan remembered Yuri's reaction to being lied to before and decided that honestly was the best policy.

"I was stupid," he started slowly, "Went out drinking, and had a lot more that I should've had. All I remember is walking out of that bar and then… I woke up in the hospital. Apparently I walked out into the street and got hit. Bastard left me there and fled. Bystanders called for help. I think."

Yuri continued to look forward as they passed in between street lights.

"You were alone?" he asked.

"Yeah," pause, "Pathetic, I know."

There was no further response until they reached the park, with the little swing and slide set off in the far corner. They stopped in the middle, Bryan not knowing where to go further.

Yuri faced him, "Why were you drinking like that?"

Bryan gave him an uncomfortable half-smile and rubbed at his face. He responded evasively, "Stressed. You know, about work and life in general."

"That's all?"

The question made Bryan bite his lip hard. This was turning into another confusing moment where there was an indecipherable glint in Yuri's eyes and Bryan didn't know what the redhead wanted to hear.

"I was being stupid," he repeated, "I was there chugging the stuff and… and thinking, and then, I just stumble out…" he trailed off. What else was there to say? Yuri didn't need details.

"Thinking," Yuri said quietly, "About me?"

Bryan's heart flipped. He could remember exactly what he was thinking about as he sat at that damn bar, asking for bottle after bottle. And now he felt helpless, being scrutinized by Yuri in the dark. Helpless to lie.

"Yeah," he sighed, looking away.

He felt arms encircle him and gasped at the unexpected contact as Yuri embraced him, his arms around Bryan's shoulders. Bryan gingerly hugged him back around the waist, then pulled him closer as Yuri buried his face in his neck.

"You _are_ stupid. And drinking makes people dumber. You could have died," Yuri murmured, his breath warm against Bryan's skin.

A strange feeling was welling up inside Bryan, and it began to slowly boil, molten and heavy and freeing all at once, preventing him from being able to talk. All he could do was breathe in, eyes closed.

Then the isolated moment was broken as they were brought back to reality by a jeer. Yuri pulled away, and they both watched as three men approached, looking about their own age.

"Well, well, if it's isn't a couple of faggots," one of the three strangers called, smirking disgustedly. "Don't go touching each other in public, you might cause mass puking."

The other two laughed menacingly.

Bryan spun fully to them, his eyebrows clashing furiously, "Hey, why don't you just shut the fuck up, you closet-case?"

Instead of getting angry, the man simply grinned as he stood before them. He wasn't easily fazed.

"So let me see," he looked between Yuri and Bryan before allowing his demeaning gaze to finally rest on the redhead, "You like taking it up the ass, you little cocksucker?"

Bryan hissed in rage.

"Don't—" Yuri started.

But Bryan barely heard him; within seconds his fist had connected straight with the bully's nose. He heard the satisfying crunch as it broke and blood began gushing out. The man staggered away with a cry of pain, but his friends were quick on the act. One of them reached first, throwing a fist in return that Bryan wasn't fast enough to dodge.

The hit never landed, however, because Yuri had stepped in just in time to take the blow. He gave a sharp intake of breath as the fist landed on his cheek. Bryan pushed him out of further harm's away and dealt the assailant a punch to the stomach, causing him to bend over.

Bryan was seeing red, but Yuri had grabbed his arm and was pulling him back, restraining him.

"Stop, Borya. Stop damn it, let's just go—"

Bryan stumbled back, away from the three. Yuri took a firm hold of his hand and tugged him along as he ran. They sprinted away.

"Run just like the queers that you are, but this is not over!" one of three yelled after them.

Yuri's hold doubled on Bryan's hand, keeping him in tow. They didn't stop until they reached the house.

xx

"The fucking bastard!" Bryan raged, "Calling you… that… and you're not even… Next time I see him on the street I'm going to have him hospitalized for months, I swear!"

"Chill out," Yuri ordered disdainfully, then winced as Sergei applied a cold pack to his bruised cheekbone.

"Why did you block me?" Bryan demanded.

"You're still healing, remember."

"I'm not fucking fragile!" Bryan shouted, throwing his arms around, "How do you—"

"Bryan, stop," Sergei commanded, leaving no room for protests, "What started all of this, anyway?"

That really did cause Bryan to pause, breathing deeply, as he remembered the moment before it all. He rubbed at his neck in indignation, then said, "Nothing. Low lives just out to harass people because they have nothing to do."

"Hold it right there," Sergei instructed Yuri, who took the cold pack from him. The blonde turned to Bryan, "Just that? You sure you didn't provoke them?"

"For fuck's sake," Bryan rolled his eyes, "Why is it you constantly have the impression that I'm always looking for trouble?"

"Bryan said it like it was," Yuri confirmed, gingerly pressing the pack to his cheek, "They just wanted someone to harass."

"But you won't just let it pass, right?" Ivan asked from the other side of the kitchen table, "You can't let these assholes get away with attacking!"

"We won't," Sergei replied solemnly, not letting any emotions on, "If you were at the park then they must live around the neighborhood. They'll regret it all, trust me."

He shared a meaningful look with Bryan above Yuri's head.

**xx**

Don't you just feel bad for itty bitty Borya and Yuri? I'll make it all better soon, don't worry. Or will I? Muahahaha.

That's all for now, until next time. Don't forget to leave a review.


	5. Kissing Blues

**REVIWWWS**

**Panda: **Wow, where to start? Firstly with Tala's hair gel: I'm sure he goes out every other day for a new bottle of hair gel. It's a wallet-unhealthy habit. You'd at least think by now he'd just buy a damn stack and store them under a floorboard in his room or something haha. About Bryan's tattoo thing, trust me, I can so totally imagine it. I have another fic, unfinished (and never will be) where Bryan works in a tattoo parlor. He's just cool like that. And the almost-kiss-thingimagij… well, Bryan's brain, I would imagine, would just invent sparks at the least opportunity in near proximities with Yuri, because he'd desperate. Like real desperate to get into Yuri's pants, yo! But really, that's not all there is to it. The narration thing I have to admit is unintentional. I'm glad that it's working that way, and that it's being noted, but really I think I just get into the mood/scene and do it subconsciously. Thus: different styles of adjectives and short or run-on sentences. It's my frantic attempt to put the idea forth. My ego is purring. It is now awaiting the next session. XO

**Golden: **Glad you're loving it. Thanks for the review!

**Song: **I will continue writing, no worries. Thanks!

**NeKot: **I don't blame you, trust me. Damn Yuri for being stubborn and not giving us the fantasies our minds so hungrily desire. Interruptions will keep cropping up, I am sad to report. I mean, yes I am the writer, but it's gotta be done. It adds tension/points of interest and keeps the story in pace and all that jazz. But it's great to know that you're joining mine and Panda's _Bryan is a cool mofo_ bandwagon. You're very much welcome to it. :]

Alright, update time!

I'm sitting here drinking water with ice. A lot of water. Okay, why is that relevant? It's not. I'm just weird and spontaneous like that.

Something that's been plaguing me about this fic: I feel like it's going in a ridiculous direction. I have it all mapped out on the brain and a lot more past this has already been written, but I keep reading and rereading and thinking, "Is it going completely out of whack?"

Despite that, I hope you like this installment.

**xx**

"Hey," Bryan said as he walked over to the kitchen sink and filled up a glass of water.

"Hey," Sergei replied, not looking up from his mini laptop, "Still up?"

"Nah, I slept," the other informed him, "Woke up real thirsty. You? Not going to sleep tonight? It's," he checked the clock, "Almost two am."

Sergei simply shrugged. "Can't sleep."

Bryan took a sip from his glass and peered curiously over the blonde's shoulder, "So what are you doing?"

"Reading stuff. There's this website with great articles about basically anything, like—"

"Yeah yeah," Bryan replied disinterestedly, "You make it your business to learn a lot of mundane crap," he smirked internally while repeating Yuri's words, "I get it."

Sergei shot him a look then looked back towards his screen. Bryan sat across from him on the table.

"So," he started, "How's work going these days?"

"Same old same old," Sergei replied, not paying him much attention.

"Any interesting stories?" Bryan prodded in an attempt at conversation, "Someone causing trouble? Trying to rob the store? Anybody crazy you had to throw out for the safety of the general public innocently doing their shopping?"

The blonde looked up slowly with a slight frown, "Weren't you going back to sleep?"

"Not anymore," Bryan grinned at him, "Well?"

"No," Sergei told him, "Uh, except maybe for that old lady who fainted and caused a gathering like a circus. But Anastasia dealt with that."

"Ooh," Bryan wiggled his eyebrows, "Seryozha's got a girlfriend!"

Sergei shot him a glare, but Bryan didn't miss the slight coloring of his cheeks.

"Spill all," he demanded, setting his glass on the wooden table with a _thunk_ and leaning forward excitedly.

The other pushed the laptop away in defeat, then faced Bryan with a raised eyebrow. "Not so fast. You tell, you get told."

"Ah," Bryan answered, suddenly looking everywhere but at his companion, "That's how it's going to be."

"Yes," Sergei smirked, "You and Yuri. What's going on between you two?"

Bryan rubbed at his hair uncomfortably. "Nothing," he sighed finally.

There was a moment's pause, then Sergei ventured with, "That's not all there is to it, is there?"

"I'm going back to bed," Bryan suddenly announced, leaping up.

Sergei grabbed his arm as he passed and pushed him into the chair next to him.

"Says who something is going on?" Bryan asked exasperatedly.

"Don't bullshit me," Sergei answered pointedly.

Bryan chewed on his lip then told the other, "Look, that, I—I can't tell you about it. Sorry, Serg. You probably don't want to know anyway."

"Why don't you try me?"

They glared at each other, eye-to-eye, until Bryan caved and looked away. The he smirked. "Fine!" he exclaimed, "Fine, I'll tell you. It's at your own risk though."

Sergei nodded, and listened intently to Bryan's vague recounting of the issue. He looked unfazed.

The silence after was uncomfortably tense until Bryan murmured, "I told you don't want to know."

"That's for me to decide," Sergei shot back, "So what's happening now?"

"Nothing," Bryan proclaimed distressfully, "That's just it, _nothing_."

The blonde just shook his head, "You give up too easily."

Bryan's jaw dropped open, "Wait a second. Just wait for one second. You mean, you don't mind? You don't want to run away to the hills?"

"I'm still here, aren't I?" Sergei challenged, "I admit it's a bit… new, maybe a little uncomfortable, to be honest. But I'm no homophobe, if that's what you're saying."

The other was left to mull over these words for a bit before imploring, "What should I do?"

Sergei ruffled his hair and said, "As I said, you give up too easily. You have to try for these things, Bryan. You can't run away from it like you did."

Bryan shook his head, his nails scraping at the table surface. He couldn't face Sergei. "I don't want to end up regretting things."

"Then show him," Sergei advised, "Make him see it like you do. And if he doesn't, well you can't say you didn't try. No regrets."

Bryan once again fell into his train of thoughts. After a while he looked up with a half smile, "I tell, you tell," he reminded, "What was her name… Anatassia (1)?"

The mood lightened considerably. It was now Sergei's turn to fidget.

"Anastasia," he corrected, "She works security with me. Real pretty girl, you know?"

Bryan smirked at him, "Real pretty, huh? You like her?"

"I didn't tell her," Sergei informed him, "I—don't think I ever will."

"Hey, no regrets, remember," Bryan prompted, "Sounds like you've known her for a while. If you haven't got the guts to just say it like I did, then give her a hint. Or something."

"A hint like what?" Sergei questioned.

They fell into companionable contemplativeness for a few moments, until Bryan looked up when an idea struck him.

"Take her out. To dinner."

"Isn't that obvious?" Sergei rebounded, "And that's not a hint."

"Alright," Bryan amended, "Then invite her to dinner. You know, in a friendly way. Then you two can have time together away from work."

"I… don't know about that," Sergei said uneasily.

"Do it," Bryan encouraged. "Casually. Nothing to lose with that."

"I'll think about it."

"Then I'm going back to sleep. For real this time," Bryan yawned as he got up. "You have work tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Sergei nodded, pulling the laptop back to him.

"Then get some sleep."

"Goodnight," the blonde waved him off.

xx

It wasn't until the next week that Sergei finally mustered his courage and invited his interest over. She accepted.

"I don't know about you guys cooking dinner," He said apprehensively to his three housemates, who stood lined up in the kitchen with identical smiles.

"No, no, you go on to your shift," Yuri smirked, "You can depend on us. And I mean, what other option do you have?"

"That's the problem," Sergei muttered, then, louder, "Please don't burn down the house."

"Bye!" Ivan called after him.

"Alright, we need a game plan," Bryan observed. "What are we making?"

Yuri and him looked at each other helplessly.

"That's a no brainer," Ivan rolled his eyes, "Roast chicken and vegetables. And Zapekanka (2) for dessert."

"Then you take out what we need," Yuri commanded the youngest one of them, "Bryan, you cut the vegetables. I'll deal with the chicken."

"Why do I get to be your delivery boy," Ivan complained loudly, but went to the fridge and started sorting ingredients out.

For the next while the only sound in the house was the _chop chop chop _of a knife on cutting board and the clanking of kitchenware. All went smoothly: the chicken was successfully marinated, the vegetables cut, the gravy prepared. They preheated the oven and put the chicken and vegetables in.

"Now," Yuri said, taking charge, "the dessert."

That's when things started to go wrong.

Ivan, insisting to measure the ingredients out, did it wrong the first time. That put them effectively out of cheese. Yuri set out to buy more, cursing up a storm on his way for good measure. Bryan pushed Ivan away and ordered him to watch only.

"It's not my fault I spilled all that salt into the mixture!" Ivan insisted.

"You also put in double the amount of semolina," Bryan shot back.

"Yeah well, you guys were talking over each other giving me instructions. How was I supposed to understand?"

Bryan threw his arms up, "Just let us do it, alright?"

There was much feet tapping and sighs until Yuri finally returned, a triumphant smile on his face.

"Good thing the store was open," he said, shooting Ivan a dirty look, "Now, just let me—"

Bryan grabbed the cheese packet from his hand, "I've got it."

"_No._ I'm making it, we can't afford for things to go wrong again," the redhead pointed out.

"Right, because you're the better cook here," the other rolled his eyes.

"Look, let me just do it. We need time to chill it after, it tastes better that way."

Bryan huffed but surrendered, watching along with Ivan as Yuri carefully measured out and put the ingredients in a bowl. Then the redhead grabbed a spatula and approached to mix.

"Wait," Bryan jumped in to pull out the electric mixer, "Let's use this, it'll make it smoother."

"Here," Yuri motioned for it to be handed over.

"I'll mix it," Bryan told him, plugging the electric tool in.

"Just give it to me."

"You measured, I'll mix!"

"This is not a game!"

"Well then, back off!"

They bickered back and forth with Ivan trying to subdue them until finally the short boy burst out with, "GUYS!"

Both Bryan and Yuri's heads swung to him, shutting up at once. The ingredients were still not mixed.

Ivan's nose was wrinkled, "Is something… burning?"

"Burning?" Yuri repeated dumbly, "Burning. Oh shit!"

He ran over to the oven and threw it open. Smoke came gushing out, making Yuri cough and withdraw. A fire had started inside where the tinfoil covering the baking tray had come into contact with the burning oven coil, catching in flames. They watched with wide eyes for a second, shocked, as the whole oven went up in fire and the chicken was literally roasted.

Then Bryan shook himself back to reality.

"Fuck!" he said angrily, filling up a bowl of water and dousing the insides of the oven.

The fire was effectively put out. The chicken, burned crispy on the outside, now sat pathetically in the tray, drenched and soggy.

Yuri grabbed at his hair in frustration.

"For fuck's sake," he ranted, "What are we going to do now!"

"It's all your fault. If only you wouldn't argue so much," Bryan accused.

Yuri turned on him with blazing eyes, "My fault?" he demanded, "_My_ fault, Kuznetsov—"

"_Stop!"_ Ivan yelled, effectively cutting off the spat matches for the second time, "Just stop. Arguing is not going to fix it. Let's put our energy into thinking what we're going to do."

For the next five minutes there was agitated pacing and shuffling, with the unfinished dessert laying forgotten in its bowl. Suggestions like 'order takeout' were quickly shot down; they wanted the evening to go well for Sergei. 'Try again' was also invalid; there was no time and they didn't have another chicken. Finally Bryan walked over to the freezer and began pulling out frozen dinners.

"You're going to make them frozen food," Yuri stated flatly.

"Why, you have better ideas?" Bryan threw back, "It's pretty good, pasta and seafood. And we'll season it. It's this or they end up having cold sandwiches."

From there, things progressed well. They were all wary and left no room for mistakes, with a good result. The food was cooked, with a decent final result. The dessert was successfully made without further drama and the kitchen table was set.

Ivan was just placing the wine bottle on the table when Sergei returned from his shift with their guest in tow.

The girl smiled at them, and for a moment the three boys stared at her, dumbfounded.

She was certainly pretty, with sharp eyes and a big bust. But what intimidated Bryan was that she was taller than him, and he was taller than Yuri and much taller than Ivan. He reasoned it was only a good match for the gigantic Sergei, who stood well above six feet. The top of Anastasia's head reached the blonde's eye level.

"Guys, this is Anastasia," Sergei introduced, "Ana: Bryan, Yuri, and Ivan."

Snickering inwardly at how it was meant to be, Bryan saluted her while Ivan said "Hey," and smiled back. Yuri only nodded.

"Has… something burned in here?" she asked casually, taking a sniff at the air. She had a melodious, soft voice.

Yuri's eyebrow began twitching as he shot Bryan a glare, so Bryan took it as his cue to answer.

"Nothing to worry about," he assured her, "Enjoy your meal. We'll be going."

"Oh, don't leave on my behalf!" she said, her eyes widening, "Really—" then her gaze fell on the kitchen table to realize it was only set for two.

"No, no," Bryan took the role of the spokesman again, "We _all_ have somewhere to be."

Ivan grinned and nodded.

Sergei, flushed, looked at them heatedly for being so obvious. They paid him no heed.

"Well, nice meeting you," Ivan said, grabbing Bryan as he began to walk out, who grabbed Yuri. They filed out of the kitchen in a procession.

"Nice to meet you too," Anastasia smiled after them, "Thanks for the food."

"No problem," Bryan called back, winking, and making Sergei flush further.

In five minutes they were changed and out the door.

xx

"Did we have to leave the house?" Yuri complained as the three of them trudged along in the dark outside, "I could be pretty inconspicuous in my room."

"I've already made plans with a friend," Ivan shrugged, "From school."

Bryan smirked at him, "Would that happen to be a girl…friend?" he teased.

"No!" Ivan said hastily, "It's a guy. He said I could come over, so I guess I'll be there until those two lovebirds are done."

"Sure," Bryan agreed.

When they came to the fork of the road Ivan waved his goodbyes and walked away. Bryan and Yuri continued in the opposite direction to the main road.

"Where are we going?" Yuri asked crossly.

"Lighten up," Bryan said, "Want to catch a movie?"

Yuri shook his head, "The theatre around here is shit."

Bryan remembered the little local run-down cinema and silently agreed, then said, "Club?"

"Club," Yuri repeated, and stopped walking.

"Yeah," Bryan shrugged, "Dance a little, have fun."

They flagged a cab on the main road.

xx

Two drinks down, and Bryan was feeling buzzed.

"Stop drinking," Yuri ordered, "Remember what happened to you last time?"

"Alright alright," Bryan sighed, waving the bartender away, "Want to dance?"

"No."

"Whatever," he shrugged, moving away to the dance floor.

He'd barely pushed into the gyrating crowd when a pretty brunette danced up to him. The music blared loud and fast, causing the club goers to go wild. She had to shove her way over to Bryan.

"Hey," she smiled coyly.

"Hi," Bryan smirked.

"So… you looking for some fun?" she wondered aloud.

Bryan spared Yuri a look, who was watching them with an unreadable expression. _You have to try,_ Sergei had said. Bryan's buzzed mind interpreted this as _make him jealous._

"Sure," he said.

In no time his hands were on her waist and they were rocking together to the music. She flipped around and rubbed up against him, her hands keeping a steady hold on Bryan behind her. Bryan closed his eyes and for a moment imagined that this was Yuri in front of him, grinding, And Yuri's sharp gaze still burned on his back, clinging to him, seeing right through his clothes, right through _him_, to his heart which yearned so badly… The girl grinded again and he felt his nether regions twitch.

The girl turned around again, her arms snaking up to his neck, "Ooh," she giggled, having obviously felt the change in his physique.

"Can't—can't be doing that," Bryan commented huskily, licking his dry lips.

She leaned in, mouth to his ear, and her breath lapped hot against his skin as she whispered, "I don't mind. I'm Karina by the way."

"Bryan," he replied, his hands sliding down her back to land on her ass. He pulled her closer to his body as they continued to move.

"That your friend?" she asked suddenly, jerking her head towards Yuri, who was still staring at them.

"That—? Oh. Yeah."

"Tell him to come over. My friend's been eyeing him since you guys came in," she motioned to a girl standing to the side watching them, then she leaned in with a devious little smirk, "Just like I've been eyeing you."

Bryan stopped moving until she prompted him back to the beat.

"Him? Oh no, he's ah, he's got a girlfriend. Real possessive type. Dangerous," Bryan stammered, thinking quick.

"She's not here."

"No."

"Then she doesn't have to know," Karina winked.

Bryan had to stop himself from pushing her away, "No!" he said, then added hastily, "He's real faithful to her. He won't have it."

"Oh well," she sighed, turning to shake her head at her friend, who looked disappointed, before going back to Bryan, "Forget about him then."

The overhead lights flashed and swirled, making the club goers go even wilder, if that was possible. Everywhere there was the undertone of chatter and laughter beneath the booming music, which penetrated right through the dancers' bodies. People were getting riotous, thrusting against each other and making out, and hands were travelling to places that were publicly inappropriate. No one seemed to care; they all wanted to run away with the music and become infused with the throng, letting go.

Karina and Bryan were face to face. She looked into his eyes, hers aflame, and all of a sudden she was leaning closer and closer. Bryan shut his eyes tight, waiting for it. _Think it's Yuri, think it's Yuri, _his mind ranted. He felt the proximity of her face, felt her breath on his mouth. Their lips had almost connected when Bryan felt himself being tugged away roughly.

"Let's go," Yuri said through clenched teeth, leaving no room for argument as his bruising hold yanked Bryan right through the crowd and outside, leaving Karina staring after them in confusion.

The cold night air felt like a slap to Bryan, who'd been sweating in the midst of a human furnace.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"What am I doing," Yuri snarled, "What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing Bryan?"

"Having some fun," Bryan replied.

"Fun!" Yuri shouted, "This is your idea of fun?"

"What exactly are you getting at?" Bryan bit out, getting riled up, "Stop being such a wet blanket!"

"_You_," Yuri threw back, jabbing him painfully in the chest, "Were on the dance floor, _grinding_ with some random girl—"

"And?"

"And?" Yuri demanded, "And what, Kuznetsov? I don't understand you!"

"Oh really," Bryan snapped, "And what is it that you don't understand?"

That seemed to subdue the redhead, who spun away for a second before turning back to Bryan, his face expressionless. "What are you doing, Bryan?"

"I told you, having some fun," Bryan now shouted, throwing out his arms, "Until you came and ruined it!"

"I don't get it," Yuri shook his head.

"Wait," Bryan held a hand up, "Wait. Are you _jealous_?"

"Jealous? You think I'm jealous?"

"Then what the fuck!"

"You know what, fuck you Kuznetsov," Yuri hissed. "I'm going home. Go back to her."

He turned and began walking away.

"I will!" Bryan called after him, frustrated. He headed back into the club, but had no intention to carry on with what he was doing previously. Instead he headed over to the bar, trying to find his jacket so he too could leave.

Bryan cursed when he couldn't locate the damn thing.

"Looking for this?"

He turned around and came face to face with Karina, who held his jacket in hand.

"Yeah," he said, grabbing it, "Thanks."

"Where are you going? Why was your friend mad?" she asked, watching him curiously as he threw the article of clothing on.

"He's… he's upset. About, uh, something. Family issue," he lied, cursing at himself mentally as he tried to evade her, but she blocked his path.

"So, you don't have to go," she pointed out, "We were having fun."

"It's all good but I really got to—"

"You were enjoying it, I know that," she murmured, her hand coming up to discretely slide down his stomach and over his groin, which had no reaction this time, "We can continue what we were doing."

"No, look—"

She grabbed his hips and pushed up against him. Bryan had had enough.

"Let go of me, you slut!" he yelled, shoving her away.

Karina stared at him in shock as she stumbled back, then she leaned over and bitch-slapped him, hard. Bryan winced, his cheek stinging.

"Hey, what's going on here?"

He looked up to see an unfriendly-looking guy approaching. Another obstacle. Exactly what Bryan needed.

"_Who_ are you?" he looked down his nose at this new addition.

"Don't bother, he's just another asshole," Karina said to the guy, trying to get him to walk away. The guy shook her off.

"I'm someone you don't want to mess with. What were you saying to Kari?" he demanded.

Bryan smirked, "Maybe you should be checking what your girlfriend is doing with whom."

The guy snarled, looking ready to deck him one, "Look, asshole. She's not my girlfriend. We," he gestured to a nearby group of people watching them, a couple of the guys looking ready to pounce if needed, "Are a group of friends looking out for each other."

"Felix, forget it," Karina sighed, taking hold of the guy's arm.

"It doesn't work that way," the guy insisted, "He's clearly being a jerk!"

The guys from the group finally decided to join the little congregation, frowning at Bryan. Bryan damned his luck, now truly and absolutely stuck. One, two guys he could take on, but not a bunch of them, especially not hulking no-brains like some of these were. And he hadn't forgotten the fragility of his right shoulder and arm.

"Joy," Bryan muttered under his breath, then turned to the girl and added, "Look, I'm sorry about what I said, alright?"

She rolled her eyes and walked away. Bryan took that as his cue, pushing past the guys in front of him. Felix thumped him hard with his shoulder as Bryan went.

**xx**

**Eeedit/nextday: **sorry, i forgot the footnotes!

** (1)** No, Bryan's not being retarded. Anatassia is an actual name, Russian. Or nevermind; by the end of this Bryan _is_ being retarded.

**(2) **Russian dessert. Lemon and semolina cheesecake.

Reviews and ego strokes will all be appreciated.

Also, sorry if the chapter title totally misguided and/or confused you. It refers to the rebound after the almost-kiss Bryan had with the girl.

Ciao for now.


	6. Flow Through

**Reviews:**

**Panda: **First of all: thanks for being such a dedicated reviewer who puts it out on the table exactly as it is. You don't give undeserved ego-stroking, so kudos to you! Footnote thing: fixed. Thanks for pointing it out. The whole thing with OCs… well, I'm not a great fan of them myself. But really, this fic might be about Bryan (and the rest of the boys) but the world, even their own world, doesn't revolve around just them. I wanted to have a sense of realism, and I didn't feel that there were any Beyblade characters I could just stick into the surroundings to give Serg a love life. That being said, all OCs will be merely supporting characters, and will either fall out shortly after appearance or will not be referred to a lot. About the club scene, it seems like there was a little misunderstanding. Bryan was not inebriated. At all. He was 'buzzed': the little 'I don't care' episode anyone could get after a couple of (hard) drinks, and, while they are fully sobre and capable, they are likely to do stuff and blame it on the alcohol. Bryan's actions were his own stupidity. He is an idiot who hasn't really gotten the hang of things, despite whatever he might think. Though yes: a sexy idiot.

**Shadows: **Sorry for the delay, and thanks for the review!

**NeKot: **Wouldn't we all love it if Bryan was just put on the spot about being an idiot! (says the _author._ Ahem.) He really does need something to put him in line.. hmm… I'll go and allow my eeevil self to ponder that… Thanks for the review!

What is this? An update?

YES!

I'm so sorry for taking my time, but my life has been hectic this past week+ (excuses, excuses, haha). I'll try very hard to get the next update up very soon to make up for it.

Read on.

**xx**

Bryan was left to contemplate his actions for the next couple of days. Yuri was not talking to him, and Sergei and Ivan took notice. Miserable, Bryan shot down their inquiries until he realized he couldn't stand being ignored by the redhead any longer.

One evening when Yuri and Ivan were watching the television Bryan swallowed his pride and marched up to them, grabbing hold of Yuri's hand.

"We need to talk," he said, pulling Yuri away and to the upstairs landing. In the hallway Yuri broke free and turned to him expressionlessly.

"Yuri," Bryan started, "I hate it when you ignore me like that."

He could tell that Yuri hadn't been expecting him to be so straight to the point, and yet felt relieved that he'd gotten it out.

"If you're going to act like an idiot then you can expect to be ignored," Yuri replied.

Bryan leant against the wall. He could still hear the sound of the TV as Ivan continued to watch, no doubt wondering if he should be snooping around to find out what was happening between Bryan and Yuri.

"I still don't understand what made you so mad," Bryan said, erasing Ivan out of his thoughts.

Yuri's mouth formed a thin, resolute line, clearly uncertain on how to answer that, so Bryan, desperate to get to the bottom of the issue, added, "Just say it like it is. We're not going to get anywhere otherwise."

"I don't know how to explain it, okay?" Yuri answered.

"Well then, and be honest, did it matter to you that I was doing… things, with someone else? Dancing, touching? Is that it?" Bryan asked exasperatedly.

"No!" Yuri denied, "It's not like that. At all," upon seeing Bryan biting his lip dejectedly, he sighed, "Look, Bryan—"

They heard the front door slam open and heavy footfalls before Sergei's voice floated up, "Bryan?"

Bryan looked to the stairs, torn. There couldn't be a worse minute for Sergei to require him.

"He's back from work," Yuri observed, and after seeing Bryan's expression added, "Just go."

He shook his head as he himself walked away, down the stairs, leaving Bryan leaning heavily against the wall. Bryan waited a few seconds before following.

xx

"Seryozha?" Bryan questioned as he passed the living room, in which Ivan still sat facing the television and Yuri had rejoined him.

Ivan shot him a curious glance as he went, but Bryan ignored it. Instead he looked at Yuri, who sat with his eyes blankly glued to the screen, obviously not paying attention to it, and whom did not return his look.

"In here," Sergei called from the kitchen.

Bryan walked in to find him looking hassled and drumming his fingers on the kitchen table anxiously.

"Long day at work?" He asked.

"Yeah, but it's not that," Sergei shook his head.

Bryan contemplated the kitchen table before deciding on taking a seat, "What's up."

"It's Anastasia," Sergei told him, looking uncomfortable.

"You said the dinner went well," the other turned on him with a raised eyebrow.

"It did!" the blonde answered, "She said she really enjoyed it."

"Then calm down," Bryan shrugged, "You look kind of freaked out."

"Yeah well," Sergei stretched his neck, trying to ease some of the kinks in his muscles, "She invited me over to _her_ house. For tomorrow."

"Sounds like everything's great then."

"No, you don't understand," Sergei waved a large hand about, "What if she's seeing it like: I invited her, so she has to return the favor?"

"So?"

"So? Maybe she's just thinking about it in a friends type of way."

Bryan scrunched up his face thoughtfully for a moment, "Alright, but still. You're assuming that, and even if it was, it doesn't have to be. You just have to let things run their course. Uh, 'go with the flow'. English saying. (1)"

Sergei didn't look any more reassured, "I was thinking of turning the offer down…"

"Are you crazy?" Bryan demanded, straitening up, "You'd be such an ass. And she'd be really discouraged."

The blonde pursed his lips in thought, looking away. Bryan got up.

"Go tomorrow. Have a good time. You never know what's going to happen."

xx

Bryan needed a haircut, badly.

He scowled at himself in the bathroom mirror, then collected his hair and pulled it back. He was unsurprised that he could wear it in a short ponytail, should he want to. Letting go, Bryan contemplated for a second whether he should get it cropped short or not.

Finally deciding to deal with it later, he exited and came face to face with Ivan.

"I thought you'd never get out," Ivan said reproachfully, pushing past Bryan to brush his teeth, "I'm going to be late for school!"

"Your problem," Bryan shrugged.

He walked downstairs to find Sergei in the kitchen entertaining a cup of steaming coffee.

"Morning," he mumbled.

"Good morning," Sergei answered, "Sleep well?"

"Yeah right," Bryan answered, sitting at the table and letting his head thunk on the surface in dismay.

"Yuri's still sleeping? I heard Ivan making a racket earlier."

"How should I know," Bryan muttered, closing his eyes.

"Usually you don't get up before Ivan's in school," Sergei pointed out.

"You got work?"

"No."

"Then why are _you_ awake?" Bryan asked.

He opened his eyes and saw Sergei shrug in his peripheral vision.

"Habit."

When Bryan said no more, Sergei added, "Dinner with Anastasia today."

"At least it's going well for one of us," Bryan sighed, pushing himself up and sauntering over to the fridge.

Ivan chose this moment to run into the kitchen, fully dressed and lugging his schoolbag. He shoved Bryan, who had just opened the fridge door, away and rummaged inside.

"The heck," Bryan complained, though complied and let him.

"I get detention every time I'm late," Ivan ranted, pulling out bread and spreading cheese, "I forgot to set my alarm last night."

The other two watched without much sympathy as he quickly made himself a sandwich and hightailed it out while taking quick bites, dragging his obviously heavy backpack.

"Have a good day," Sergei called after the short boy, only to be answered with the front door slamming. He turned to Bryan, "What are your plans for the day?"

"Dunno," the other answered, his head stuck inside the fridge, as though something other than what they had might suddenly materialize, "I'm thinking about going to look for work."

"What kind?"

"Anything available," he finally pulled out and closed the fridge door, juice carton in hand, "Do I have much of a choice?"

"What did you do back in Novosibirsk?" Sergei asked curiously, as though suddenly remembering that he'd never questioned Bryan about that aspect.

Bryan poured himself a cup of orange juice, took a sip, grimaced, and then drained the glass.

"How long that been in there? It tastes too sour to not be expired," he looked at the carton disdainfully before draining its contents too into the sink and aiming it at the trashcan. He missed, but it left it there on the floor. "I worked in a tattoo shop."

"Tattoo shop," it was clear that Sergei was surprised, "As in, tattooing people?"

"What else, garbage boy?" Bryan shot back, deciding that the leftover coffee the blonde made was a good bet.

Sergei smirked in amusement, then said, "It's unexpected."

"Yeah, yeah, me and tattoos. Absolutely cannot be imagined," his voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Weirdly, it's kind of fitting," Sergei informed him, "There are plenty of tattoo shops you can ask for work around here."

Bryan paused for a moment. While he'd been considering the issue of employment for the past couple of days, not once did it occur to him to go back to the work he did in Novosibirsk. Of course it only made sense that he did; he had the experience, and it was a better job than most that he could get. And besides, he missed the work now that he thought about it. Just dealing with clients and immersing himself in the art, then seeing the looks on their faces as he delivered…

"Well isn't that an idea," he said absentmindedly, walking out of the kitchen with his own cup of coffee in hand.

xx

The day turned out to be a let down. The tattoo shops he visited all informed Bryan that they had no space for another tattooist, or that their business was slow enough nowadays, or some such other reason that he found to be bullshit. Discouraged, Bryan returned home hours later to find Sergei gone and to hear the shower running.

He dropped in front of the television and flipped through the channels quickly; nothing was worthy of attention. So he turned it off and reclined back, trying to figure out his next course of action.

Struck by sudden inspiration, Bryan was on his feet and up the stairs in no time.

He walked quickly into his room and began to rummage in his drawers, which he'd haphazardly filled without order upon his return weeks back. He pulled out various belongings: underwear, socks, a music player, a silver necklace, more undergarments, and finally what he was looking for.

Bryan held up the sketchbook and glanced at a few of its pages. It was an old one that he'd had for years, filled with some sketches but mostly with various tattoo designs that he'd come up with in his spare time. Tattooing had become his passion back in Novosibirsk, but he realized bemusedly that he hadn't _really_ appreciated it back then, lost as he'd been.

Now though, as he looked through, he wondered whether the sketchbook would be any use to him in his bid for work.

Bryan flipped it closed and went through his lecherous drawers again. He pulled out more items, including a string that he didn't know came from where, before pulling out his set of black drawing ink pens.

He grabbed sketchbook and pens and then his eyes landed on the string again. Shrugging to himself, Bryan pulled it up it and tied his hair back to keep it out of his face.

In the hallway he accidently came across Yuri, who had just emerged out of his typical long shower, and who was only covered by a towel slung around his hips.

Bryan stopped and stared, unable to help himself.

Yuri shook his wet hair out of his face and sent him a fleeting glance, clearly uncomfortable with the meeting, until Bryan averted his eyes and said, "G—good shower?"

He closed his eyes in self depreciation at his lame statement.

Yuri took it coolly though as he escaped towards his room, "Yeah."

Bryan went downstairs, sketchbook and pens in hand, but his inspiration had been shot down. All he could picture now were the angular curves of Yuri's torso, his pale skin wrapping around naturally toned muscles and streaked with trails of water running down, down into the towel slung low around his hips…

And his hair, darkened with wetness, hanging down to his shoulders, curving just the slightest at the ends…

Bryan groaned in frustration, feeling his body reacting to the vivid image. He mentally scrabbled around for anything to take his mind off the problem; old ladies in bikinis and, and Ivan in nothing but a tutu... worms mating…

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Bryan sat up.

He pulled the sketchbook to him determinedly and began to doodle.

And yet he could not fully take his mind off Yuri. He was a normal person with normal hormones after all, and he'd had zero sexual contact for months, something which he was ashamed to admit was unusual since he'd left for Novosibirsk. Ashamed because he'd always had a part of him wondering whether he should remain faithful to a person he badly wanted but whom did not want him back. And still, the issue… sure he sometimes dealt with it by himself, but the thought of Yuri…

Bryan chewed his lip and shook his head in an attempt to clear it.

He was unsuccessful.

**xx**

**(1)** Okay, take a moment and imagine Bryan saying 'go with the flow' in English, in a real heavy Russian accent. Yes, you can thank me in a review.

Review time?


	7. Want All

**Reviews:**

**Shadows: **Thanks, as usual. Keep on reading.

**Panda: **Tattoo shop dreams might be upcoming, but I don't know about Bry tattooing Yuri. Though that does give me ideas. Shower scene? I betcha Yuri supersecretly likes to be ogled. No, just kidding. He does like to be ogled, he just doesn't know it yet. ;) No worries about being offending; please keep reviewing as you always do, I like it that way. Apologies are not required! And being called fantastic is good. My ego approves. Haha. And now you've got me real curious… Bryan and a… unicorn? Do I want to know? Yes? No? Aargh, I need to stop thinking about what it might be. Moving on… faster update has been delivered on time!

**Gabz: **Haha, isn't that true. I think Yuri's got a bit of that complex, yes. It'll play out in the end though. Thanks for reviewing.

I promised a fast update, didn't I? _Didn't I?_

AND I'M ACTUALLY GOING THROUGH WITH IT. Woop.

And oh, development actually happens in this chapter.

Read to find out.

**xx**

It was one night when Bryan had resorted to smoking again that he saw them. He had opted to step out onto the balcony for his nicotine hit, having been generally frustrated, when he spied three shadowy forms in the distance. Bryan inhaled a drag sharply, exhaled, and inhaled again. All the while he was watching with narrowed eyes through the feeble glow of the streetlights. The three figures were congregated down the street, and he was almost certain that they were who he suspected them to be. Bryan's mouth curved down with distaste, remembering their one and only meeting.

Snuffing the cigarette on the railing, Bryan headed inside.

He knocked once on Sergei's door and entered without invite. Luckily, the blonde was only reclining back on his bed, reading. He shot Bryan a look at his intrusive behavior. Bryan, unaffected, grabbed Serg's jacket from the closet and threw it at him. He directed a fierce gaze at the blonde, who put the article of clothing on despite looking confused.

"What's going on?" Sergei asked, pushing himself up.

Bryan bared his teeth, "Remember those guys Yuri and I were acquainted with a while back? I think they're hanging out down the street."

Understanding dawned into Sergei's green eyes, but he looked apprehensive as he held up his hands. "Look, you're not going there to fight."

"What does that mean?" Bryan crossed his arms, not swayed, "We're going to leave them alone, so that next time they can jump Yuri or me when we don't expect it?"

"No," Sergei answered, coming to stand right before Bryan and looking down at him, "That's not what I said. But you might remember that you've been—"

"Been what?" Bryan cut him off, extremely annoyed, "Hit by a car months ago?"

"Well—"

"Come with me," Bryan interrupted, once again, "Or I will go alone."

They were thankfully not intercepted by their two other housemates as they sneaked out. Yuri and Ivan were both holed up in their own rooms, the latter having blaring music as was usual of him.

As they shut the front door after them Sergei grabbed Bryan's shoulder to stop him.

"Let me deal with it first," he basically commanded.

He didn't let go until Bryan gave a nod.

xx

The three men were conversing and laughing loudly, causing major noise in the neighborhood when Sergei and Bryan approached.

"So these are the wimps you told me about, Borya?" Sergei said loudly, catching the bullies' attention, who spun to face them.

"Yeah," Bryan confirmed just as loudly, smirking as he played along. "Told you that they are such pansies they're easy to recognize."

The frontman of the three bullies took on a defensive stance, his expression clearly conveying that he was intimidated by Sergei's size despite himself. The blonde shared Bryan's smirk, then crossed his arms tightly, allowing their massive size to bulge out and stretch the fabric covering them. He looked down his nose at their opponents, as if they required reminding that he could have them piled up within seconds flat.

Bryan stepped forward with a raised eyebrow, "You said something about things not being over last time? Well here I am. And don't think that he," he gestured at Serg with his head, "is my bodyguard. I can take you down with one hand."

His gaze and words, both cutting, were directed at the apparent leader of the group. The guy spat on the ground.

"Are you challenging me one on one, faggot?" he hissed, pushing into Bryan's personal space.

"You know, that sounds like a good idea," Bryan threw back, refusing to be provoked by the insult, and shrugged off Sergei's hand when it landed on his shoulder this time. Then he grinned menacingly, "The only good idea you've ever had, I'm sure."

The guy's answer was to throw the first punch, which Bryan dodged. He retaliated with a swift kick to the legs; the bully fell to the ground and grabbed Bryan as he went, taking him down as well. He kneed Bryan forcefully in the stomach, taking momentarily control before he was struck back, a solid punch to his barely healed nose. They rolled and scuffled on the ground, exchanging blows. And while the guy was putting up a good fight, Bryan knew that he was winning. His anger and adrenaline refused to allow him to give up, despite the aches he had from his shoulder and arm, the pain of the blows that landed, and his newly split lip, which was dribbling copper into his mouth. He noted in triumph that he was overpowering the guy when—

"Borya!" Sergei shouted in alarm.

Something heavy struck him on the shoulder in that exact moment with such force that it left him reeling. The pain that shot threw him was so excruciating that it made him blank out for a moment as he fell away. He distantly heard footfalls and thumps before coming to sharply again. He had been hit on the very area that he'd damaged in his car accident. Pain was shooting in rapid fire up and down his shoulder and arm. Bryan spared them a glance and registered that something dark was seeping even through his jacket sleeve. The blood looked black in the feebly-lighted night.

Then someone grabbed him and hauled him to his feet.

"Fuck," Sergei swore, handling him without much sweat, "I couldn't react fast enough—the guy just grabbed this wood post lying around and I tried to tell you…"

Bryan shook his head to clear it, biting his lip hard against the pain. "It—it's not your fault," he answered, "What happened to them?"

He tried to walk independently, but Sergei hold would not cease as the blonde headed them off for home.

"Gave the asshole a few blows he'll never forget," the blonde's voice was dark, seething, "The third one ran off and the one you were fighting was just lying there… But you're bleeding through your sleeve—"

"I know that," Bryan snapped, on a short leash because of the intense pain, "It's my bad arm. Probably split open again or, or something…"

His prediction turned out to be true when they reached the house. Bryan winced as Sergei helped him strip his jacket and shirt in his room, while Yuri and Ivan watched with confusion and worry and demands to be told what happened. The wound had partially reopened and didn't look pretty as it continued to bleed, making Bryan slightly light-headed to add to the pain. He gritted his teeth at all the unnecessary noise.

Sergei finally turned on Yuri and Ivan.

"Can you let me help him out first?" he demanded, effectively shutting them both up. He disappeared and reappeared with their first aid kit, which was rarely used and rather outdated.

Sergei first pulled out rubbing alcohol and dabbed at the opening, making Bryan hiss and shove him away. Pulling out gauze, Sergei next set out to bandage it despite his lack of skill. The beige gauze was quick to be blotted red. Sergei continued to wrap, pulling it tight, until there were several layers and he was satisfied.

"Can I talk now?" Yuri all but bit out at them when Sergei finally pulled back. "Where the fuck have you two been?" then his icy gaze landed on Bryan and he shouted almost hysterically, "Why are you black and blue and bleeding all over the place? And most importantly, why are you not in a hospital? That needs restitching!"

"I'm not going to a hospital," Bryan muttered, sliding down to his back on the bed. "Somebody get me water?" he added, and Ivan shuffled off. Bryan licked his lips and tasted dried blood flakes. He had to admit that he probably looked like shit. Exactly as he felt.

Yuri's gaze was so severe, still training on him, that Bryan finally sighed and spared the redhead a glance back. He was shocked to find that while the look he was being given was a one that wished him six feet under, Yuri's eyes were bright as though they might be… wet...

Sergei was looking awkwardly from one of them to the other.

"Yuri's probably right," he ventured, "We really should get that restitched. And we should get your shoulder checked, too…"

"I'm fine," Bryan asserted, jumping at the distraction from Yuri and turning to Sergei. He was still in pain but it was gradually and very slowly lessening. He really didn't think that the blow had caused any damage requiring medical attention. "I'll just sleep the pain off. If I'm not better by tomorrow I'll get it looked at."

That seemed to satisfy the blonde. Ivan returned at that moment with the water, but barely managed to breach the door. Yuri grabbed the glass from him and pushed him back out, then directed a steely gaze at Sergei until he too stepped out. Yuri ungraciously snapped the door closed in their faces.

He turned on Bryan.

"Who did you fight?" he demanded, glass shaking in his hand, threatening to spill, as he attempted to control his emotions. "Tell me, Kuznetsov! What the fuck were you doing!"

Bryan looked at him solemnly. He licked his lip again and was once again met with the unpleasant swipe of dried blood.

"Can I have the water first?" he asked.

Yuri all but stormed over as Bryan pushed himself up with difficulty, relying only on his undamaged arm. It was clear that the redhead had no intention of helping. Bryan took the glass and drained it, then set it away on the bedside table. He could not escape what was coming, though, because Yuri had taken a seat right beside him on the bed, facing in his direction with a clearly determined, expectant aura. His mouth was curled down, and Bryan looked away again, everywhere, when he realized that Yuri's eyes were indeed wet.

"Seryozha and I had a run in with those bastards from last time," Bryan started, "It was supposed to be a one on one fight, me and their little gang leader. Then one of the other two cheated—he hit me with this piece of wood or something, from behind…"

He trailed off when Yuri grabbed his face and turned it so that they could look each other in the eyes.

The wetness that had been welling up in Yuri's eyes escaped in two isolated trials down his cheeks. His mouth was a firm line until he slowly and plainly pronounced, "You went out looking for them, didn't you."

Bryan was entranced by the look in Yuri's eyes, and he found suddenly that he despised himself for making the other _cry_, even if only slightly. But Yuri was _crying_, something which he'd never ever done in front of anybody, not even Bryan…

"I had to," Bryan told him sincerely, "I hated what they did and said to you, last time."

Yuri gave him a humorless smirk, "You went to satisfy yourself."

Bryan's eyebrows clashed, "That's not it," he denied, "They had it coming for what they've done."

His eyes fluttered closed when Yuri's hand came up and lightly ran over his bruised eye and split lip. His fingers lingered on Bryan's lips, keeping them silenced as he himself spoke.

"You know what made so angry last time? At the club?" he whispered urgently, as though he'd been bursting to say this for some time. Bryan's heart jolted in his chest, taking over his senses, and even overpowering his arm's throbbing. Yuri continued in that same breathy quietness, which made him lightheaded, "I couldn't understand how you could tell me that you had feelings for me, and then you could just leave, and then you come back and say that you haven't changed, and _then_ you go so easily onto someone else. How am I supposed to believe you? I can't tell if you really mean it."

"I do mean it," Bryan insisted quietly, his eyes still closed. His entire being was on fire; he didn't think that he could look at the other. "So much, Yuri. But you don't want me."

"I don't know _what_ I want," Yuri exclaimed.

Bryan didn't even have time to answer to that when the redhead's lips fell to Bryan's own. They connected in a brief, light touch, but it was enough to make sparks run down Bryan's spine. He gasped and withdrew, shoving Yuri away.

"Don't," he said, almost angrily, "Don't, unless you mean it!"

His eyes clashed with Yuri's stormy blue. Yuri now looked quite detached from any emotion; there were no more tears to behold. Then the redhead fled, the door clicking softly closed behind him.

Bryan slid down in his bed and almost cried himself. All his physical pain returned in one swooping ache, and now emotional pain was added to the mix. He'd been yearning so badly. He's just been contemplating and wanting to feel Yuri, and that little touch had him spiraling down and realizing that he'd been right all along, that it was exactly what he's wanted… But his heart was in it, too. Way too deeply in. He didn't think that he wanted to take a risk, not when it all seemed so uncertain.

He wanted it all or nothing.

**xx**

Awaiting with burning desire your…

…reviews.

Don't deny me!


	8. To Rebounds

**Reviews: **(thanks to all)

**Panda: **I'm the favorite person of… 1 person now! I feel accomplished. Sergei/Serg: that is intentional. Serg is a short form of the name Sergei; they are (as far as I know) pretty much interchangeable. If you think it would be better to use one I can stick with Sergei in the future. When the fight was going on, I imagined everybody watching the circus that was the one-on-one. Of course, Sergei is not stupid. He'd have been keeping an occasional eye on the other two, but _they_ are not stupid either. In a moment when he'd turned away to watch the scuffle again one of them attacked. And Yuri crying, well he wasn't crying because Bryan came home all heroic and bloody, hahaha. No, he just had some piled up confusion/frustration, and it just all came out since he was raging around at the moment anyway. And he didn't reallllly cry, just shed a couple tears. Also, I must make it known that you're tainting my brain… unicorns, rainbows… ah I'll just concentrate on this story for everyone's sakes.

**Gabz: **I like it, too, that's why I used it. Haha. Though sometimes it takes a lot of courage to follow it through (as Bryan will come to realize…)

**Inside the Box: **I'm so glad you decided to read and review! Yuri does need to get deciding. But Bryan needs some deciding of his own, too, I think. Of a different type. Anyway. I love writing the Bladebreakers (especially Takao/Kai) but it's hard to think of them in this story. And oh, secondary school = level of schooling before post secondary/university = high school (we call it both here in Canada). Do you have another name for it? I think it's called secondary school in Russia, not sure. Ivan would be around 18-ish in this story, though he acts pretty immature.

**NeKot: **I hope I don't offend you, but is English your second language? It's pretty good, and really cute. As this story comes to a close, things will get hot fo' sho'! For now, though… got to keep trudging. And you're welcome.

I'm on a roll, fanfiction, don't you ever forget! (if you've heard **I'm On A Boat** by **The Lonely Island**… well, enough said.)

Alright, I'm really motivated with this fic. I get these writing moods where I write.. and write.. and write.. and the thing is I can't even publish everything I wrote at the same time. It would be too long for a chapter and I don't want to put up several chapters at once…

Anyhow. Moar upcoming soon.

**xx**

Bryan had not spoken to Yuri again since the last incident. However, the one doing the avoiding this time around was him. He was in constant agitation; one moment he'd wonder whether he should have reacted like that, and the next he'd be firm in the belief that it had been the right thing to do.

Or could he have taken the middle solution?

Bryan thought with a burn that if only… if only he'd allowed Yuri to kiss him, if only he'd kissed back, passionately, and shown him everything he had in that fiery touch… if only he'd conveyed everything within him through it… then would Yuri have stayed? Would he have changed his mind and gave Bryan what he wanted, all he'd been desperately chasing…?

The aches in his body had long worn off, but the ache of Bryan's heart persisted.

Bryan scowled in the dark at the ceiling of his bedroom. It was still early, but he was already in bed, though sleep refused to claim him. The day had stretched out too long for him; he'd awaited nightfall with bated breath, in order to escape. He was tired from the constant whirring of his mind. He wanted to escape wakefulness, but even that momentary relief would not come.

Bryan sighed and rolled onto his stomach, closing his eyes.

He was… heartbroken, Bryan would hazard a guess. What else could that dulling of his world be? He was heartbroken, just as he'd been before he'd left for Novosibirsk. The first heartbreak had been different though. In the beginning it had been utterly crushing, and then he'd mellowed out mindlessly into it, turning automatic, stemming the pain. This one, though, this one was different. It was slow and weary and it circulated sluggishly within him, keeping him weighted, keeping him tied.

It had only been about a week since but it was already unbearable.

Bryan was certain that he was a failure. Didn't one become defeated when one's whole being concentrated on someone one could never have? Wasn't being unwanted a failure of itself? Wasn't it a _failure_ when one becomes unable to let go?

The feel of Yuri's lips, that brief yet so memorable touch, kept churning within Bryan's mind. He was waiting and waiting for himself to forget it and realize that Yuri would never come around. But was waiting enough?

Bryan groaned softly and flipped again onto his back. He shouldn't be sitting around any longer, he decided. He had to find something to do. He was going to resume his job hunting.

Soon.

xx

"Original designs?" the man asked.

Bryan was waiting apprehensively in the backroom of a small tattoo parlour as the owner flipped through his sketchbook. He'd been around asking for work, presenting for credibility the only thing that he could. No luck so far. Then again, the man before him had shown a lot more interest than previous potential employers, and had also given Bryan a lot more time.

"Yes," Bryan confirmed.

The sketchbook snapped closed. The man looked up and smiled. He had pleasant smile-lines around his eyes.

"When can you start?" he asked, extending his hand. It took Bryan a moment to react; he'd been taken off guard.

"Really?" Bryan burst out before he could stop himself. Then he grinned abashedly and firmly shook the other's hand, "As soon as possible. And I'm Bryan."

"Everyone around here calls me Roma," The man answered, reclining back and giving Bryan a relaxed smile. He had rugged features, a build that suggested regular workout, and looked at least ten years older than Bryan. Possibly more. Bryan couldn't deny to himself that he found Roma rather attractive. "So… Bryan. Tomorrow? 2 pm?"

"Sounds good," Bryan nodded, standing up as the other man did. He collected his sketchbook and was led out of the tiny backroom to the front, where lounged a couple of customers and a tattooist that already worked at the place. Bryan watched the employee work as he walked. The guy was bent over a middle-aged woman's back, inking writing that Bryan didn't recognize on her shoulder.

Excited, and itching to get started again himself, Bryan forcefully tore his eyes away and stepped out the door.

"Pakah (1)," Roma saluted him, then disappeared back inside.

Smirking, Bryan turned away for home.

xx

Bryan found himself with something to smile about for the first time in over a week. The exhilaration of finally finding work had proved successful in taking his mind off his other problems. Utterly relaxed, Bryan threw himself beside Ivan on the couch that evening and ruffled the younger's hair just because he felt like it.

"Argh," Ivan swatted him away before patting his hair back into place, "What's got you on cloud nine?"

"Nothing that concerns you," Bryan shrugged, teasing him.

"Not fair!" the other exclaimed, muting the previously blah-blahbing television, "You never tell me anything."

Bryan smirked. "You don't need to be told anything, kid."

Ivan's eyes narrowed angrily. For a second he glared into Bryan's amused face, looking like he was about to throw a fit. Then slowly he reclined back, face neutral.

"Oh, alright," he said airily, pulling out something small and red from his pocket.

"When did you get a mobile phone?" Bryan asked, leaning forward eagerly, even as Ivan turned away from him and began punching out a text message, "Who are you messaging?"

Ivan's lips stretched into a devious smile as he sent the message and clicked the small device shut. "That's none of your business. You're too old for technology, anyway."

"Why you—!" Bryan mock-raged, grabbing him in a headlock.

They messed around for a bit until the front door flew suddenly open and a booming voice said, "Oh, please do that."

They both paused, now positioned on the floor with Bryan's arm around Ivan's neck and Ivan's fingers digging into Bryan's skin in the struggle to free himself. Sergei had walked in, red-faced, and he looked ready for murder, as though somebody had horrendously ruffled his feathers.

Bryan blinked. "Do what?"

"That!" Sergei threw an arm out, glaring at Ivan, "Killing him."

"Oh," Bryan said, then shrugged, "Sure."

He redoubled his efforts, and Ivan squirmed and screeched within his grasp.

There were footsteps and in burst none other than… Anastasia.

Bryan and Ivan paused once again, staring at the unexpected comer. She was breathing heavily, as though she'd taken the last hundred meters at a run, and now leaned against Sergei's shoulder, who stiffened. Anastasia regained her breath and then, to Bryan and Ivan's bewilderment, began to chuckle.

"Oh, oh my god," she giggled, all the while using Sergei as a post, who was slowly surpassing red and turning purple, "That's… hilarious." Her eyes landed on the two on the floor, "Serg's told you to do that, didn't he?" she asked Bryan, motioning, and then chuckled again, "Please don't. Let him go."

As though being reminded of his position, Ivan took the chance to shove the lax Bryan away and rubbed at his neck. Bryan didn't protest.

"What… is going on?" he asked instead, looking from Sergei, who seemed to about to suffocate, to Anastasia, who looked incredibly amused.

"Oh, right," Anastasia waved her hand about, intentionally smacking Sergei's arm, "You made me run so much after you, you jerk," smiling, she turned back to Bryan, "Well, I've received a couple… okay, _many_, rather interesting text messages. From Serg's cell phone. He forgot it at home today."

"I haven't seen it," Bryan said at once, thinking it best to clear his name first and foremost. "What kind of messages?"

Sergei, shaking with humiliation or rage, finally mustered up enough control to raise a large hand and point accusingly at the last member of their group. Ivan blanched and looked ready to bolt.

"_Yesterday_," Sergei bit out through gritted teeth, "I got a new phone. A red phone. You wouldn't have happened to see it, _would you_?"

Ivan _eep_'ed and hid behind Bryan. Bryan, unconcerned, pushed him away into clear sight again. "So that's the phone I saw him using earlier… text messaging… makes a lot of sense," he mused, smirking when he saw Sergei look just about ready to pounce and beat Ivan bloody and ball-shaped.

That prospect was killed, though, when Anastasia grabbed the blonde's arm and turned him to her. She was still smiling, her eyes twinkling as she looked into his flustered face.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked him.

"I… ah—" Sergei stammered, torn between staying with her and going after Ivan.

She leaned up and placed a firm, long smooch straight on his lips, shutting him up. Bryan wolf-whistled and Ivan grinned, ducking behind Bryan again for safety just in case. Bryan let him. When Anastasia pulled back, she had a glowing smile on her face. Sergei had deflated, but looked unsure and nervous. It was rather odd seeing such a gigantic man looking like a lost school boy.

"Oh come off it!" Anastasia laughed, throwing her arms around his neck, "Just admit it already."

Sergei's features changed, and he allowed himself to smile, though he was still flushed. His arms snaked around her waist and embraced her back.

Ivan and Bryan looked at each other as the new couple forgot everyone else around them.

"Good job, twit. For once," Bryan told the other, rapping him smartly on the head. Then he headed upstairs to mope.

xx

It was a measure of how desperate he was that Bryan even entertained the thought of giving his issue over to Ivan, in the off-chance that one of the boy's foolish plots might actually work, like it did for Sergei. The thought was quickly snuffed out with a self-demeaning snort. Bryan snuffed out the cigarette in his hand, too, exhaling out the last drag. He was rather frustrated that atop everything else, he was regaining smoking as a habit.

Bryan leant against the balcony railing, breathing deeply as though the action could dispel the poison he'd recently inhaled. He didn't want to smoke, but he found himself with a cigarette more and more frequently, looking for a stress vent or a distraction. Angry at himself for his lack of control, Bryan pulled out the cigarette pack, swung his arm back as though to send it flying, growled, and replaced it in his pocket.

He shook his head then raked his hand through his overgrown hair. Figuring that he might as well get going to his first day at his new job, even if he would be early, Bryan turned to head back inside. For a moment he thought he saw a flash of red behind the blinds covering the glass door. He stopped.

When he made it back inside, there was no one there.

xx

Bryan, slightly sweaty and hair tied back away from his face, finally leant back. The client before him examined her recently finished forearm tattoo and then smiled at Bryan.

"That looks amazing," she commended, her smile of thanks turning into something else entirely as she eyed him in a very obviously interested manner, "How'd you get that scar? It's really sexy."

"Ah, that," Bryan spared his bare arm a glance. He'd taken to wearing t-shirts or tank tops on his work days, which always put his scar, and sometimes his tattoo, on display. Of course, he had his reasons. For one thing, the weather was turning warmer and warmer outside; Bryan would throw a light jacket or a sweater on top and he'd be set to go. For another, the shop was rather small and stuffy, and working really got him heated up. He wiped a hand across his forehead, returning her smile in a detached way. "Accident," he continued, "Nothing nice about that."

"Oh? I love scars on guys," she winked, moving a little bit too much into his personal space.

Bryan looked over her shoulder and saw Roma watching them with arms crossed and eyebrow raised. He looked back to her, pulling away. He wished she'd just leave already.

"Thanks? I guess," he shrugged, "I'm glad you're happy with the result," he added, motioning towards her tattoo and steering the topic away from her hapless advances, "Be sure to take care of it well. No hot water or harsh soaps. And apply the ointment everyday. It should heal properly."

Realizing she wasn't about to get anywhere, the girl nodded and thankfully swept away.

Roma took her seat in front of Bryan as the latter sighed with relief and began disassembling the tattoo gun for sterilization.

"Hello, Mr. Popular," Roma smirked at him.

"Took her a while to get the hint," Bryan muttered under his breath, so that only Roma could hear. The man chuckled. Bryan looked up. Their eyes met.

Roma's eyebrow was raised again.

Bryan got up, tools in hand. "Next customer's appointment should be in around ten minutes," he said hastily, unnecessarily, as he moved away.

All the while he felt himself being watched.

**xx**

**(1)** Pakah: goodbye in Russian.

Uh, this chapter probably ends in a really random place. Every time I reread, I come to this choppy stop, like sudden demise by jumping unexpectedly off a cliff. You know? No? Oh well.

I didn't want to add any more or it would have been too long. Chapters 9 and 10 have already been written. This story is inching its way to the end!

Review, don't forget. :)


	9. Of Fools

**Reviews:**

**Panda: **I… think that incrediblocity is my new favourite word. You being so excited on the Bryan tattooing scene made me all warm and fuzzy inside… I think that you'll like this chapter quite a lot. There is also some explanation here on the Bryan/Yuri situation. Stalking was just one time. Or Yuri also finds the image of Bryan having a cigarette sexy, like you do. Haha. I really hope that you continue to like Anastasia; she'll be popping up a bit over the next chapter or so. Aaaand, this chapter should explain a bit (A LOT) about Roma. Fast updates are getting to be my thing nowadays.

**Inside the Box: **That wasn't confusing, and wow it all seems so different from Canada (the ex-colony that still swears by the English queen). Anyhow. You're getting me started on the topic of smoking... ignore the following if you like, it'll be a lot of boring blah. /Begin rant. I started smoking like, really young, got off it for a few years and then picked up again last year of high school. University first year I hung out with all these smokers and being a freshman is really stressful so no more needs to be said about _that_. I'm in second year now. I've 'quit' quite a few times in the past, without much success. Now I'm almost two weeks (it seems so much longer, gah) into my latest off-smoking attempt. It's working, though I get insane cravings and started chewing a lot of gum. Here's hoping this time I'll pull through with it fully. /End rant. Sorry for writing my life story. Hahaha.

**Gabz: **LOL you're right. It's like, "Look! I've got more writing but I won't give it to you until I feel like it!" Ah well. I still stand with my point on not wanting to put up more than one chapter at a time. And Roma IS sexy, even though I'm not into older guys. Apparently Bryan is though…

**NeKot: **Your English is still pretty good, as I said. Don't be shy about being complimented! :)

**Shadows: **I sure will. :)

WAZZUP? An update, that's what. I _warned _you that I was rolling. But really, I want to get this fic finished and up as soon as possible (so I can concentrate on other fics). Who's complaining? WHO'S COMPLAINING?

Leave me a review to complain (after you've read).

**xx**

Bryan didn't have a problem with knowing that he found Roma attractive, which he did. But as the days passed Bryan couldn't help the nagging feeling that Roma might be… interested… in _him_.

It was the looks, the smiles, the suggestive eyebrow raising. Not to mention the constant attention Roma gave Bryan, which their only other co-worker, Andrei, didn't get. Having experience in tattooing, Bryan couldn't imagine the attention being caused by his new-coming, either.

He found it unnerving to an extent, Bryan did. Sometimes it was hard to work under the scrutiny of his boss, whose gaze seemed to cling to his skin whenever the man wasn't busy. Many times now he'd caught Roma eyeing his scar. While a few customers had called Bryan up on it, either out of genuine curiosity, or, like the girl who'd tried to come onto him, out of some form of interest, Roma never asked him about it. Even Andrei had once brought the scar into the conversation on one of their occasional chats. Roma simply seemed content in eyeing him.

Bryan didn't know what to think. It was not that he didn't know what Roma's intentions might be (if his suspicions proved correct) but rather he didn't know how to react to it. He was still very much and very stupidly in love with Yuri, and after that crazy night when the redhead had kissed him, Bryan didn't think he'd go back to his old ways of bedding random people. He'd wait either for his feelings to vanish so he could move on, or for Yuri to come around.

Unfortunately, neither seemed to be happening.

His interaction with Yuri since had been minimal, and never personal. They ate at the same table but with little eye contact; they passed each other in the hallway or around the house; they endured 'family time' forced by Sergei, who was failingly attempting to play reconciler or matchmaker. Mainly they just tried to act normally, with the exception of direct contact. Sergei didn't have much attention for them most of the time, anyhow. Having finally snagged the girl he'd been doting after, he was spending a lot of his time with or around her, which meant that she was now a frequent visitor to their residence. And Ivan, he continued to be the irreplaceable class-A monkey of the household, exasperating and amusing those around him in equal measures. Anastasia loved him. Ivan liked to divide his time, whenever he wasn't busy studying as finals fast approached, between more ill-devised plans and hanging out with her (whenever she wasn't preoccupied, that was).

And the situation seemed like it was going to stay that way. For a while to come.

Then there was work. Bryan couldn't possibly accept Roma's attention should the time come to it. Would he be fired for rejecting his boss? He'd come to like working at the shop, not to mention finding himself to get along rather well with both Roma and Andrei, and tattooing had brought him a whole new way to escape. Would Roma even bring that issue up eventually? From the appearance of things so far, it seemed likely that he might. Was Bryan even correct in his assumption of Roma's intentions? He certainly hoped he wasn't. But that was probably a false hope.

After some contemplation, Bryan decided that he'd ignore it until the time came when he'd inevitably have to face things.

xx

"I want a tattoo," Ivan announced one weekend at breakfast. Bryan, Sergei, and Yuri (cranky, tired, and reserved, respectively) all shot him looks. "What?" he demanded, dropping into a seat and pulling the breakfast items on the tabletop towards himself, "I want a tattoo."

"…Why?" Sergei asked finally.

"_He_ has one," Ivan used the butter knife to point at Bryan, who ignored him, "And they're so cool!"

"_Cool_," the blonde repeated, unenthusiastically.

Ivan rolled his eyes, "Yes. And you can't stop me, you're not my parent."

"Have you… thought about this?" Sergei asked slowly, "The fact that tattoos are… _permanent_?"

"You think I'm stupid?" the youngest hollered, affronted, causing Serg to smirk, "I'm getting one!"

"Then get one," Yuri threw at him in a monotone, "Just shut your trap. It's too early to be annoyed to death."

Sergei and Bryan snorted into this breakfasts. Ivan retaliated by flicking toast at them. Bryan growled.

"You're giving me a tattoo, Borya," Ivan informed him, grinning, "When's good? I'll come by the shop."

Bryan slackened at this news for a moment. Then he rolled his eyes in a bid for patience and said, "Never is good. I'm not going to give you a tattoo."

"Why not?" Ivan demanded.

Honestly, Bryan didn't have a plausible reason as to that. The only thing his still partially-asleep brain could come up with was, "I don't want to."

"That's bullshit!" Ivan protested, pausing with breakfast.

"He's right."

Both Bryan and Ivan turned to Sergei, who looked at neither as he continued, "Ivan's right, Bryan. If he's really thought this through, it's his problem. And who better give him a tattoo? At least he can trust you…" he trailed off upon looking up and seeing Bryan's blossoming evil smile, "Or not. You'd probably ruin it purposefully."

"I've rethought my decision," Bryan told Ivan as he turned to him, "I'll give you a tattoo. I'll let you know when you can drop by."

"What? No!" now Ivan was against the idea, his eyebrows clashing as he considered the possibility Sergei put forward, "I never thought about that, you giving me a permanent ugly stamp."

Bryan shrugged nonchalantly, "Your choice."

"Well…" Ivan started slowly, faltering, "Well, you'd have to promise you won't mess it up."

Bryan thought about this for a moment. He grinned across the table.

"I promise."

He didn't have to _mess_ it up…

xx

Bryan was getting extremely annoyed. Ivan had showed up on time, which was great, but he was really nervous and fidgety, which was not. And he'd brought along Sergei, who forced Yuri along with comments on how this would be an excellent opportunity for all of them to see Bryan's work (another reconciliation ploy doomed to failure, probably). To Bryan's chagrin, Roma accommodated all of them, despite Bryan's pointed looks and intense prayers.

He had a hard enough time concentrating with Roma's watchfulness, let alone with Yuri's presence atop all. Bryan was certain that Ivan's tattoo was going to go to hell, and not in the way he'd intended, either.

"Stop moving around," he commanded, as Ivan continued to look like he had a cockroach scurrying about his clothes.

"I'm nervous, okay?" Ivan rebounded.

Bryan pulled back. "So you change your mind?" he asked hopefully.

"No way!"

Ivan actually stayed relatively still as Bryan worked, slowly and carefully moving the gun to ink the design onto the former's skin. The design was made by Bryan and preapproved by Ivan. It just said so much about Bryan's artistic genius that no one, Ivan included (who thoroughly inspected the design) had seen the glitch in it.

It was an abstract dragon that wrapped like a band around Ivan's upper arm. The design was intricate and edgy, with interwoven lines and heavy detail. Little did Ivan (or anyone else) know that within its beauty the dragon concealed two words: The Fool. Bryan thought that they were rather befitting. He didn't feel guilty; it was not like anyone else was likely to discern them. The only way _he_ knew about them was because he put them there. A small revenge.

After finishing up with black ink, Bryan moved onto colour, as Ivan had requested. Bryan's mouth was closed, concealing how hard he was biting his tongue to keep his head on his work. Roma was watching him, as expected, and Sergei, which was okay, and Yuri, which was driving him absolutely insane. They were making small talk as they did this, but Bryan didn't join in unless strictly called upon; he focused all of his energy on his handwork.

Sweat poured over Bryan's brow and his tank top was getting uncomfortably soaked through at the back. Some of his hair had escaped its tie, causing him to constantly shake it out of his eyes in irritation. He was giving it his all to keep his hand from shaking or straying or making a wrong notch. The stress was tantamount. He bit his tongue even harder.

It was a gigantic relief when he was finally finished. Bryan wiped the final oozes of ink and blood from the tattoo, bandaged it with a sterile, clear strip, and then moved back. He didn't bother hiding the deep breath he took as he allowed his muscles to finally ease. Stretching his neck, he watched out of the corner of his eyes as Ivan scrutinized his new body art in the nearby mirror. The short boy had an exceptionally impressed look on his face.

"Wow," was his intelligent verdict, as he eyed it from every angle possible. Then he turned and quite without warning lunged at Bryan.

"You're great, Borya," he proclaimed, giving him an affectionate half embrace half choke with his untattooed arm.

Bryan extracted himself by putting a hand on Ivan's chest and applying a lot of pressure.

"You can thank me by _not_ choking me to death," he pointed out, but Ivan just rolled his eyes and ran over to give Sergei and Yuri a closer look.

"You okay?" Roma asked quietly, sitting beside him.

Bryan nodded, eyes downcast as he slowly slid off the latex gloves he wore when tattooing to protect his hands.

"You look really tense…"

He almost gasped when a hand landed on his back, and firm fingers began to massage his neck muscles. The unfamiliarity of the touch, being from Roma, was almost shocking. Bryan's eyes shot up only to fall on Yuri, who was looking back at him.

Ducking away from Roma too swiftly, Bryan suddenly found the man looking at him in confusion. A fleeting glance told him that Yuri had turned away.

"I… I need some water," Bryan quickly invented.

Ivan and Sergei and Yuri all left soon afterward.

Bryan continued to be hyperaware of Roma's gaze.

**xx**

Chapter 10 soon.

Don't forget to complain!


	10. Tell Me

**Reviews**

**Gabz: **Bryan wasn't always loyal, don't feel too bad. He's just getting some priorities. Or something. And loving Yuri, don't we all? Bryan must be jealous (though we love him, too!)

**Inside the Box: **You really have something against Roma, don't you? Haha –shifty eyes- And you're wrong: it did mean something to me! Thanks for your encouragement, because even if I don't know you personally it's nice to know that someone out there is happy for me. :) I've so far stuck with quitting smoking, it's going great!

**NeKoT: **I want a tattoo too, to be honest. And writing about Bryan tattooing people makes me want to get one, too. Ahh I'm still thinking about it, don't want to regret anything later.

**PandaPjays: **Well Roma does talk to Bryan… work-related stuff. But yes, he definitely likes to watch like a creep. Yuri though, no promises there, with him doing anything about it. "Does this mean that Tala might get his act into gear and they can stop ignoring/being awkward around each other and start with the making out?" That made me laugh. Wouldn't everyone just looove it if they got it on… (Bryan and Yuri, that is). And had I been in Bryan's position, my hands would have definitely shook and I would have messed up. Thus he deserves sexycredit for that.

My life has been upside down lately. I've been, no joke, Very Busy. Capital because it does not include "I-was-busy-procrastinating". Much. So I'm not sorry for taking so long to update.

…Okay, I am. And I haven't started working on chapter eleven. _And_ I have a commission (irl) that I have to get finished and into the hands of the person who commissioned it. Gah.

Yep. Read slowly. Try to prolong the chapter as much as possible.

Haha.

**xx**

"House meeting," said a female voice as Bryan's bedroom door banged open.

It was the strangeness and unfamiliarity of hearing a woman so early in the morning that had him jumping awake at once.

"What the—" he exclaimed, blinking rapidly. Anastasia stood in his doorway, looking like she was patiently waiting for him to become comprehensive. It really was a rule of the house that everyone disregarded everyone else's privacy by never knocking. "The heck," he added, refraining from swearing too badly in light of the present company.

"Rise and shine!"

"What? Nooo," he groaned, throwing himself back into his previous position, "_House meeting_? What the heck is that? You realize it's…" he checked his alarm clock and mentally cursed her, "9 am? And Serg should already have been off to work."

"_I _would know that," she pointed out smartly, "And we don't want him present at this meeting. I expect you downstairs in five minutes."

She left, shutting the door behind her. Her tone had been the typical womanly no-nonsense one, leaving no ground for argument. Bryan pushed himself up and stared mournfully at his bed. He knew that there was a good reason he'd fallen in love with a guy rather than a girl. Or wait, this specific guy was giving him a lot more trouble than no-nonsense tones…

Bryan began to change hurriedly in an attempt to take his mind off the subject. He didn't need to think about that so early in the morning.

Besides, he was curious as to why Anastasia didn't want her favourite man present.

xx

"The reason I called this house meeting," Anastasia began, looking a lot like a drill sergeant as Bryan, Ivan and Yuri stood obediently facing her in a line, fully washed, brushed, and changed. Ivan was wearing a short-sleeve as was becoming habit of him, a rather obvious showing-off of his new tattoo. It was clear that the novelty of it had not yet worn off. She continued, "Is because Serg's birthday is coming up, which I'm sure _none of you_ have forgotten."

Bryan didn't know about the other two, because he certainly had.

Anastasia raised her eyebrows.

Ivan raised his hand.

"Yes?" she motioned to him, crossing her arms.

"Have you ever been in the army?" he asked, grinning.

Bryan was annoyed because if he'd asked that (which he wouldn't have) she'd probably have decked him. But she had a what one could call a motherly affection towards the youngest of their group. So her instinct was to smile.

"No," she answered, "Though I'll take that as a compliment. Now, Sergei's birthday is the day after tomorrow. I was thinking of having a small party, just between us. I'm sure he would love it if _we remembered_ and did something special for him."

There was unnecessary emphasis on 'we remembered'. There was no argument. Bryan played along, but he didn't see what was wrong with doing things last minute (buying the last cake, lighting the wrong number of mismatched candles, gulping said cake, and having some shots) or not doing things at all. Just a simple, "You're getting old Seryozha!" would probably suffice.

Oh well. Women's unnatural ways of thinking.

xx

Anastasia worked extensively over the next day to set up a small party for Sergei's 25th birthday. Bryan pretended to care and help, and could tell that Yuri was pretending too. This mainly compromised of nodding profusely in agreement with Anastasia. Ivan, however, was a whole different story. He was genuinely bubbling with energy, acting as Anastasia's dedicated personal assistant.

The only part that Bryan (and Yuri) followed through was to keep the whole thing a secret, as they'd been asked. That was the most important part, Anastasia reminded them constantly. She wanted it to be a little surprise. Thankfully that was a really easy thing to do.

What Anastasia had to do, which she detailed out for the rest of them, was:

1. Pre-order a customized cake;

2. Buy suitable decorations;

3. Plan taking Sergei out to dinner before the party (during which the other three would set up);

4. Muse over what she was going to wear; and

5. Buy a special gift for her boyfriend

"Gift?" Bryan questioned on the day of the party, knowing that he must have missed something that couldn't be ignored, "Oh. Damn…"

The woman before him looked quite stern as she glared at him.

"It's tonight!" she glowered, "How could you forget such a thing?"

Bryan looked to Ivan, who said, "I already got mine. Went with Ana…" So he turned to the only other person present. Yuri stared blankly back at him.

"So, you—you haven't bought anything either?" Bryan asked awkwardly. Unfortunately, they still weren't on the same page.

Yuri shook his head imperceptibly.

Anastasia cut the tension by grabbing each of their arms and almost bodily hauling them over to the front door.

"I don't want to see you back before you've got something. Something you put some thought into," she specified, concurrently booting them out.

Bryan found it rather unseemly to be kicked out of his own residence. But that was the power of women for you. Yuri and him were almost at the main road when they realized that neither had brought along his wallet.

xx

It was strange, going shopping together as though there weren't weird complications between them. Bryan was pleasantly surprised, however, when the trip proved neutral. They interacted normally, as they might have always had, except for maybe being a little more distant.

Bryan glanced at Yuri sideways as they walked side by side in the shopping centre. They were surrounded by hordes of people chattering as they shopped, teeming around the stores and the public rest spaces. More than once, now, they'd had to force themselves through a crowd blocking the way.

Things between Bryan and Yuri had not been like they used to since Bryan's first ill-fated confession, after which he'd fled. Certainly after his return they'd had their moments of easy friendship, but even those didn't have the connection they had once upon a time, when Bryan used to deny his changed feelings and Yuri was none the wiser.

Bryan couldn't help but smile, slightly, as he remembered those days. He'd been so stupid—convinced that if he ignored his feelings long enough, they would simply disappear. And upon finding out that _that_ wasn't the case, Bryan had decided to keep it all a very well-guarded secret. And then of course came the time when he wasn't able to contain things within him any longer…

Bryan would have never imagined that it would twist into such a long and weary journey.

Yuri was looking at him, no doubt curious as to his smile. This was confirmed when he ventured with, "Got a good idea?"

"No," Bryan shrugged, guessing that Yuri was referring to the reason for this expedition: Sergei's gifts, "Just ah, you know. Remembering things."

To his surprise, Yuri said, "Tell me."

The awkwardness in the air started to lift, gradually, as Bryan recounted one funny past incident and Yuri supplied another. They browsed a few shops, remembering together and chuckling. It was as though all that had happened between them—the fights, the kiss, the distance, the avoidance—never had. For the moment they just reverted back to being two friends, in companionship. Two friends who simply enjoyed each other.

When they ran out of things to say, things started getting subdued again. As they left the shopping centre Bryan led them away from the hustle and bustle to a nearby, deserted corner. He turned to Yuri.

"How long has it been since we did something like this?" he asked.

Yuri nodded in understanding, looking to his hands, which fidgeted with the gift bag he'd purchased.

Bryan took out a cigarette and lit it. He'd had a craving for one for the past little while. He thought that perhaps Yuri wouldn't like it but the redhead did not try to stop him. After having a drag, Bryan said, "I'm sorry."

"What for?" Yuri questioned, looking up quickly.

Bryan waved his hand about, not meeting the other's eyes. "Too many things to bother recounting," he asserted, "But really, I'm sorry that we're not like… we used to be. It's—it's all my fault, isn't it? I never meant to lose that." He ploughed on before Yuri could interrupt, "I miss those days. You know?"

Yuri nodded again. "Let's not fight anymore," he said, looking straight at Bryan, gaze sharp, "Just… let's not."

"Yeah," Bryan smiled in relief, and Yuri smiled back, his eyes softening, "Yeah…"

Yuri leant against the building and waited for Bryan to finish his cigarette.

xx

"You think they might have just decided to skip over the whole thing and went straight to bed at Ana's place?" Ivan asked.

"It's too early," Bryan replied automatically, not reading deeply into the other's words. They were currently seated, along with Yuri, on the living room couch. The decorations had been set, the cake picked up, the drinks pulled out. Anastasia had definitely messed up her own timeline. She had been supposed to bring Sergei back some forty minutes ago. Bryan was currently bored out of his mind.

"I didn't mean to _sleep_," Ivan wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Bryan wrinkled his nose, not needing the mental images, and was glad when Yuri smacked Ivan upside the head.

"What?" the youngest yelped, "If it's not happening now, it'll happen later tonight."

Yuri smacked him again. Ivan winced and then rolled his eyes.

"You guys just don't want to think about it because you're not getting any!" he laughed.

_Way to go on ruining the mood_, Bryan thought irritably as he turned on Ivan. From the other side of the couch Yuri had turned to the short boy as well, his mouth set in a firm line. Ivan, being in the middle, caused the two to find themselves looking at each other.

Bryan looked away quickly, feeling warmth begin to lick at his cheeks. Thankfully, their two absent friends decided that that moment was as good as any to arrive.

"That took a lot longer than expected," were Anastasia's first words, letting herself in before Sergei, who followed with a general, "Hey."

Ivan began snickering. It didn't require a genius to be able to tell that the two looked thoroughly snogged. Anastasia looked around, rubbing at her face self-consciously.

"Why don't we, uh, just, you know, head into the kitchen…" she said hastily, leading the way. Ivan, Bryan, and Yuri all followed automatically, smirking.

"Happy Birthday!" they chorused as Sergei stepped last into the kitchen.

He took a look around, looking caught off guard. The kitchen had been decorated with typical celebratory paraphernalia: balloons declaring 'Happy Birthday', multi-colored streamers, a personalized banner. The counter presented a small stack of well-wrapped (thanks to Anastasia) presents. On the kitchen table awaited a delicious-looking cake, specially made with "Happy 25th Sergei" written on its face. Bryan, who'd been assigned to pick it up, had paid extra to have "(you got the girl)" added below that at the last minute.

Anastasia saw it and burst out laughing.

**xx **

Reviewkthnxbi.


	11. No Stars

**REVIEWS: **I'm breaking my own tradition of writing up separate review replies. I can't be bothered right now (and I want to get this damn chapter up, it's taken long enough already!) plus I have stuff to do. Like, now. Seriously. So I'm posting and rolling. Thanks for your reviews; I appreciate them greatly as usual.

This chapter is long. Like, super long, compared to other chapters. It took me a day contemplating whether I should cut in half or not, but decided against that. Here it is: second to last chapter.

Enjoy. It's almost over!

**xx **

Bryan should have known that he was bringing it upon himself.

Things had started out normally, like any other shift he'd had at the tattoo shop. He had come in and got through his customers, one of which was a reoccurring face due to continuing work on a full back tattoo. Bryan had ended up sweaty and tired, as usual, but still very satisfied. He derived a kind of content from his work that was extremely unique and addictive.

Night had fallen almost an hour ago. Andrei, Bryan's coworker, had already wrapped up and set off. The clock slowly ticked its way to shop close, and thus the time for Bryan (and Roma) to head home. Bryan was more than ready to do so; he badly required a refreshing shower, after which he wanted to laze around until bedtime. That _was_ what he had in mind, at least, until he suddenly and inexplicably found himself in a situation he wasn't ready to handle. No matter how much he'd told himself he'd deal with it when the time came, things just weren't that easy.

Bryan had gone into the backroom to replace some supplies. It was customary to perform standard cleanup before every close to keep things organized and the shop credible. He sighed as he put everything back and then grabbed at his shirt, pulling it up to wipe at his brow as he turned…

… to find that Roma had somehow materialized into the room. Bryan paused, uncomfortably aware that the other's gaze had fallen on the part of his midriff that had become exposed. He let go of the material as Roma's eyes snapped up to his.

"You're really attractive. You know that?" Roma stated more than questioned. He had a semi-playful smirk playing at his lips. Bryan didn't know where this sudden forwardness came from as the man had seemed content with simply watching him previously. Bryan could only guess that the situation had warranted the opening. That didn't make it any easier for him to react to, however.

"Uh…" was the only thing he could come up with, eyes darting around the tiny backroom. The only way out was straight ahead, and Roma was blocking that. The man's eyes had a sort of quizzing boldness about them, which Bryan tried to avoid.

Roma stepped forward until they were face to face, him being an inch or two taller than Bryan. It was sheer refusal to be intimidated that had the latter rooted to the spot, allowing himself to look back to the man before him.

Roma raised an eyebrow.

Bryan sighed, "Look, Roma…"

Roma bit his lip and then leaned in slowly so that their bodies did not touch but still he could speak directly into Bryan's ear. Bryan tensed, his fist closing tightly to keep himself from stepping away.

"There's something in your eyes. I can tell," Roma whispered, his warm breath swirling against the side of Bryan's face, "You do want what I want. So what's stopping you?"

Bryan grit his teeth, breathing deeply. He made no answer because he didn't have one he would easily give. Roma pulled away again, but not by much; his eyes held amusement and definitely interest of the type Bryan didn't know how to respond to.

"Well?" Roma said finally, "If you don't want this, just push me away. And we'll forget about it all."

It was not a challenge. Bryan could hear the sincerity in the man's voice. Push him away, and act like it never happened. But could he? His right palm landed on Roma's chest, but he didn't apply pressure. Could he simply forget this happened?

Roma was biting his lip again, and it drove Bryan crazy because it was playing with his mind. He wanted it to stop. So he threw all caution to the wind and grabbed the man around the neck, jerking him roughly forward.

Their lips connected fervently. Roma was prepared: he kissed Bryan deeply, thrusting his tongue immediately into his mouth. Bryan tongued back without thought, blocking all the protests in his brain that called him every kind of despicable, reminding him of his recent promise to himself that he wouldn't jump into random sexual encounters…

But god. Roma kissed with a passion that made Bryan pant against his mouth, unwilling to break for air. He was quickly becoming hot and bothered, and could tell that the man before him was too. Hands were roaming freely even over clothes and enticing further reactions. Roma's hands crept under Bryan's shirt to caress his stomach. Bryan _needed _this release. He'd had for a while, and now that the chance was here and he could get some of his sexual frustration eased, well… _why not?_ his mind ranted at him, snuffing out the last feeble protest. _Why not, huh?_

So rolled his hips against Roma's, his mind going haywire as he realized that Roma was already semi-hard too. The movement caused Roma to groan loudly and shove him back against the wall in retaliation. He pressed up against Bryan, holding him captive as he grinded their groins together. Both of them couldn't contain their sounds of pleasure this time.

Bryan was overheating; Roma's touch was scorching and his body was working itself up as he gave back as good as he got. It was a relief when Roma's hands grabbed at Bryan's shirt and slid it off. All the while his lips, now at Bryan's neck, continued their mind-blowing ministrations. Bryan's hands fumbled at Roma's shirt in return until he swept it upward and over the man's head, leaving them both shirtless.

They stopped kissing momentarily, eyeing the newly exposed skin. For the first time Bryan saw that the right arm sleeve tattoo that Roma had extended over the man's shoulder and that half of his chest. In comparison, the man's left arm only had a series of roman numerals etched onto his wrist. Roma's eyes were lustily glued to Bryan's own chest. His callused fingertips mapped out the pale skin, starting at Bryan's sides and sliding up, hands splaying on his back before sweeping over his shoulders and the scar, until finally coming down to brush pert nipples. Bryan sucked in a breath, dazedly watching the torturous journey over his torso. Roma looked up.

"You need more tattoos," he murmured, and without warning flipped Bryan over, pressing him once again up against the wall as his tongue began to pay special attention to the wolf tattoo, trailing it wetly. The tongue began to divert, licking its way up his neck only for those lips to latch there. Roma rolled his hips against Bryan's ass, causing him to tremble at the dual sensation of wet sucking at his pulse point and hardness sliding against him.

"No," Bryan breathed, both in answer to the statement and the action. He pushed around to face Roma again, who looked at him with comprehension despite the lusty cloudiness.

"Alright," Roma consented, and instead began to stroke Bryan through his jeans while his other hand teased at his nipples. Bryan grunted, allowing his head to fall back against the wall and closing his eyes. Roma continued in a husky tone, "You like that, don't you?"

In a moment he'd snapped Bryan's fly open with one hand and pulled out his erection. The direct contact of heated, deliciously callused skin on his hardness had Bryan's knees going weak.

"Shi-i-t…" he gasped, allowing himself to watch for a moment as the large hand encased him and stroked him firmly. "Oh shi—"

Roma was watching him with a very aroused expression, grunting huskily with every one of Bryan pants as though he was pleasuring himself. Bryan let his head fall back again and shut his eyes tight; he found that he could no longer look into the intensity of that gaze. He bit his lip as he was caressed harder and harder, the hand speeding up to his half-moaned requests. His nipples were being pinched, the sharp sensation only adding to his delirium, before Roma leant forward and began teasing them with his mouth instead. Bryan's mind was absolutely clouded with ecstasy as pleasurable waves raced through him. His fists clenched and unclenched, then his fingers tangled through the Roma's hair, keeping that talented tongue lapping at his chest. In turn, Roma held a nipple with his teeth and bit gently, making Bryan gasp.

"Fuck," Bryan was swearing freely now, feeling his orgasm building hotly as he his hips moved uncontrollably against the palm that clutched him, "Fuck. Fuck y-yes—"

And just as he came, just as he hit that explosive bliss as though of completion, the fog in his mind cleared.

He saw Yuri. Yuri, with his pale skin dripping with water, his hair darkened with wetness and plastered to his neck, his expression contorted in pleasure as Bryan moved into him, joining them…

Bryan gasped, riding out the rest of his orgasm violently into Roma's hand.

He stilled against the wall, eyes still closed, as Roma stepped away. Bryan's mouth turned down, both gratified and frustrated by the image his mind had painted for him. He became aware belatedly of Roma's continued presence and allowed his eyes to open in order to look at the other man.

"You alright?" Roma asked, staring at him with hungry eyes.

Bryan suddenly felt self-conscious at the sight he must have made, giving in utterly to his carnal urges.

"Yeah," he replied finally, as he shakily zipped himself back into his jeans, mindless of the sticky mess. Then he grabbed his shirt and fumbled to put it back on.

Roma was now looking bemused; he was lightly stroking himself, having clearly not been relieved yet.

"I…" Bryan started finally, turning to him, "I shouldn't have started this."

Roma said nothing. Bryan knew he couldn't get out of it that easily. So he in turn stepped up to the other man and returned the favor.

He left straight after, not sure when, if at all, he'd return.

xx

Bryan trudged inside the house, ignoring acknowledgements and greetings. Inquiries he ignored too—he was not in the mood. He went straight to the shower and stayed under the hot spray until his skin turned raw and pink. Then he shut himself up in his room.

It was only when he was certain that his three friends had gone to bed did he dare to reappear. A lull had fallen over the residence, something that Bryan was glad of. He had no intention of dealing with anyone. Making his way downstairs, he rummaged in the kitchen and grabbed a couple of items, then, dressed in a hoodie against the cool night air, stepped out into the balcony.

He sat on its cemented surface, his hood overshadowing his scowl. Bryan took solitary shots of vodka; not a lot, but just enough to ease some of his down. All the while he took drags of one cigarette, two, three. He kept berating himself. He was a damn fool, and his life was fucked up. Nothing made sense otherwise. _He_ was fucked up.

He was in love with a boy that was probably straight and humoring him (that one time-time kiss) and said boy kept cropping up in his mind at the best yet worst times. The image of Yuri had at the same time intensified and ruined his orgasm. That aside, he had had effectively exchanged sexual favors with his_ boss_, with whom he had no intention of pursuing something more. And now he did not know how to deal with the past incident, let alone further advances. So his job, which he'd come to rely on greatly for personal sanity at the very least, might be at stake. Not only that, but he'd utterly broken the little promise he'd made to himself. Why couldn't he keep himself in check? Things were hard enough as they were. And he'd seen in Novosibirsk that escaping into sexual endeavors with random people would satisfy him momentarily, but not fulfill him. Never fulfill him. His heart yearned for one person.

Bryan knew without having to find out that Yuri would top anything he'd had in the past.

So he took another drag, staring outward into the streetlights without seeing. He was at the same time sad about it all and disgusted at himself. He was utterly chained for a seemingly unattainable boy and that wasn't even the worst of it. Bryan didn't think that he'd _want_ to get over Yuri. He sometimes came to the realization that something within him just _wanted_ to hold on to delusions. Delusions that one day Yuri would change his mind so that Bryan would finally be able to show him every bursting passion he'd had, ever since he'd realized that his feelings towards the redhead were no longer platonic…

Yet worse still? Yuri had kissed him. _Kissed_ him. And Bryan had pushed him away. But what had Yuri's real intentions been? Could there be a chance that Yuri had wanted to _find out_? That it hadn't simply been a spur of the moment?

_I don't know what I want,_Yuri had said.

Bryan sighed, flicked the cigarette ash away, and took another drag. There was a sudden noise behind him. The balcony door slid open in an elongated screech, as though whoever was opening it was attempting to be tentative. And failing.

"Go away," Bryan muttered. His natural instinct told him who it was.

"Are… you okay?"

Bryan hunched forward further, his back to the redhead. He accidently hit the shot glass, causing it to clink as it hit cement and rolled to the side.

"I'm fine," Bryan dismissed, mindless of the object, "I want to be alone."

There was an overstretched silence. It was clear that Yuri was inwardly struggling with what he should do. Bryan smirked to himself, still not turning to him. He _needed_ to be alone, right then. Should Yuri decide against Bryan's request, he might just have to shut himself up in his room again.

Then the door emitted that little whine of being slid closed, and Bryan was left alone again, in darkness.

He kicked his feet out and lay back, head on his hands. Bryan stared mournfully at the polluted sky. He couldn't see any stars.

Just like he couldn't see anything in his life.

Bryan mused that he'd sooner see all the stars through Moscow's bogged atmosphere before his life came to anything.

xx

"So. What's bothering you lately?"

Bryan turned to Anastasia, who walked into the kitchen and snatched the apple in his hand. He glared at her.

"You know something is bothering me how?" he shot back, not caring to steal the fruit back or get another one.

"You always seem off. Call it female intuition. Also, Serg told me you came back from work last night and wouldn't talk to anyone," she informed him, then crunched into the apple. Her gaze did not waver; she watched closely for any signs to inevitably give him away.

Bryan titled his head to smirk at her, schooling his features into an amused expression. "That's none of your business," he said.

"True," she agreed wholeheartedly, confusing him, as she waved bitten apple around, "I guess I'll just drop it."

Anastasia turned away. Bryan stared intensely at her retreating back, not believing that she was that easy to give up. His fingers twitched, so he shoved his hands into his jean pockets and quickly made up his mind.

"What's the best option for when you can't get what you want?" he called after her.

His words effectively stopped her in her tracks. Anastasia swiveled around.

"Really," she said, "You expect me to give an educated answer with no situation to base it upon?"

"Whatever jumped into your thoughts," Bryan responded in frustration, "Throw it at me."

"It's not always just about you, you know," she said sharply, then disappeared before he could stop her again.

Bryan shook his head. It _was_ about him.

xx

The party was in full swing. Music blared loudly, and there was the constant noise of shrieks and laughter. There were crazy teenagers all over the place: raiding the kitchen, dancing in the living room, playing video games, snacking everywhere. Alcohol bottles clinked as toasts got more and more rowdy. A couple was starting to get too comfortable with each other over in the corner.

The place was being _wrecked_.

Bryan picked his way through the hubbub, swiped a beer bottle, and then snatched Ivan from the midst of a group.

"To this twit," he grinned, raising his arm with bottle in hand, "Who actually managed to pass his exams."

There were snickers and clinking as the kids threw back more alcohol. Ivan rolled his eyes then began to shove Bryan towards the stairs.

"Leave," he demanded, "I never invited you to this party."

"I _live_ here. But alright kiddo," Bryan shrugged, "Just tell your clique not to destroy the place, yes?"

Ivan responded by grabbing the beer Bryan had stolen and giving him another push. Bryan winked at him and began to ascend. Ignoring him, Ivan disappeared back to his school friends, who were all celebrating the end of their school year and their success in exams.

Sergei, who had been the one to authorize this party after much pressure from Ivan, had taken the wise decision to spend the night with his girlfriend. That left Yuri, who had shut himself up in his room early on, and Bryan in charge. Bryan reached the top landing and wondered what to do. The noise of throbbing music and brash teenagers continued to assault his ears. He grimaced and walked down the hall, slowing down to a pause for only a moment by Yuri's closed door before continuing on his way.

He threw himself back on his bed and just lay there for a moment, listening to the slightly muffled commotion from downstairs. Bryan guessed that it was bound to go on for a while longer. These new high school graduates were exhilarated that their work had paid off after months of studying hard and sleeping little.

So Bryan sat up, put on music on his laptop in an attempt to overrule the background noise, then pulled out his sketchbook. He flopped back on the bed again and began to draw. Soon he was lost in his own little world, filling up page after page of rough designs and ideas, leaving them sketches. His track list had already played through but he paid it no heed.

His door opened. The noise filtered in louder. Bryan looked up. Yuri walked in and shut the door behind himself. He was combing his fingers through his hair, looking a bit sweaty. Bryan turned back to his drawings.

"Hey," Yuri said.

"Hey," Bryan responded. He eyed the most recent sketch critically for a moment before setting the whole thing aside and looking back to his friend, "What were you doing?"

"In my room?" Yuri asked, then continued at the ensuing nod, "Push ups. I figured that if I tired myself out I wouldn't have the energy to go break up the riot downstairs. I'd never hear the end of it if I do."

Bryan's eyebrows shot up, "Seriously?" then a grin tugged at his lips and he added, "How many did you do?"

Yuri smirked back at him. He seemed to know where this was heading. "In one set? 43. Proper form, mind you."

Bryan's mouth formed an 'o'. Then he got up.

"Alright," he said, accepting the challenge. He dropped down onto the floor, Yuri hovering over him like a coach. Bryan took the correct position.

"Three, two, go," Yuri directed.

Bryan started off, only to be stopped almost immediately by Yuri's toes preventing him from going down again.

"I said _proper_ form, you're going too fast."

"Whatever," Bryan said, but slowed down as he started again.

'Proper form' was a lot more potent that it sounded, Bryan thought. The first fifteen or so push ups went fine. With Yuri acting as watchful judge, Bryan did good-paced, on-point reps. Then, to his extreme irritability, he felt a little twinge in his previously damaged shoulder. Not painful, but definitely _there_. By the twenty first push up the twinge had turned into an ache. Bryan grit his teeth and continued; there was no way in hell he was going to give up. He got to thirty, thirty five. His arm and chest muscles also began to throb noticeably. He blew out his breath, dipping again. He was sweating. His shoulder and arm were definitely protesting, but Bryan didn't let on, not wanting Yuri to force him to stop.

It was literal anguish for him to hit 40… 41… 42… 43… 44…

Bryan groaned and rolled away, giving in. He tried to discretely rub at his shoulder; he was sure that he shouldn't have maxed it out like that. But still he was satisfied: his score had beat Yuri's by one. It wasn't about gloating—just a guy thing to want to top.

"Your shoulder is hurting, isn't it?" Yuri asked, extending a hand to pull him up. Bryan accepted it, then dropped onto his bed again, wiping away the sweat at his hairline.

"Just a bit," he dismissed. Yuri dropped beside him and picked up the sketchbook Bryan had discarded earlier. Bryan smirked at him now, "Forty four."

"I counted," Yuri pointed out, and actually smiled as he thumbed through the sketchbook pages, "You'd have done more if it weren't for your shoulder. But I'm certain I can do more sets (1)."

Bryan shrugged, content with giving him that much. Truth be told after that set he didn't think he'd do any more for a few days. So it was a fair trade. At ease, he put his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling, listening to Yuri's flipping of his sketchbook.

It was a comfortable silence.

Then Yuri broke it, "Wow, Borya."

Bryan's heart did a little somersault at the admiration in Yuri's voice. He sat up to see what had Yuri so enthralled, and was happy to find that the sketchbook was open to a drawing he'd done back in Novosibirsk. It was a of Gyrfalcon, spread-eagled in flight, its wings spanning the page horizontally. Bryan was rather proud of this one; he had an infatuation with falcons. They were not only fierce predators and possessed great speed, but they also were one of the most intelligent species of birds. He'd worked very hard to resemble those traits, in every little detail and line. It was probably his favorite from all of the drawings he'd done.

"I always thought it'd make a good tattoo," he said, watching as Yuri looked upon the magnificent bird. The redhead was running his fingers across the page, following the drawing's outline.

"Good?" Yuri snorted, "It's amazing."

Bryan didn't care to hide how happy it made him feel for Yuri to say that.

He grinned at him, "Thanks. Took a while to draw out."

Yuri closed the sketchbook and set it aside, then turned back to Bryan with a semi-grin, "You found the perfect job, tattooing. This way your talent is not wasted."

That subdued Bryan despite himself. He hadn't gone back to work since the incident with Roma a few days ago. He had snuffed queries from his housemates with lying that he had decided to take a break. He knew that he couldn't keep up this pretence forever; breaks were not permanent. And he didn't want to. He had missed tattooing and he did have the intention to go back and clear things up with his boss. Bryan was determined to just set things on the table and move on. And if that didn't work out, well, he could look elsewhere for a job.

Yuri seemed to catch on, because after a moment of silence he asked, "That night you came back from work. What happened?"

Bryan shook his head and then chuckled.

"I'm so… _stupid_, Yuri. Just incredibly dumb. Like usual," he decided to say.

"What _happened_?" Yuri emphasized.

Bryan shook his head again, falling back to lay down once more.

"Me being dumb, that's what. Look, if it was something I wanted to share I would have done that already. Just forget it," he said.

Yuri reclined back beside him, consenting. They laid there and listened to the ongoing commotion from downstairs.

**xx**

**(1)** just to clear possible confusion: a set is reps of an exercise without pause (as Bryan demonstrated). There's a short rest period between each set (example: 2 minutes) so Yuri means that he'd be able to do more reps overall within an allotted time frame (example: 2 hours), while Bryan could do more reps/set but less sets within that time frame. I may just have confused myself.

Next chapter last! Theeen –drumroll- there _might _be a sequel chapter. ;D

Woohoo.


	12. Meet Halfway

**REVIEWS:** I'll pull another lazy one and just say thanks to everyone who reviewed. At least you get the chapter faster, right?

Oh, I feel so guilty for taking my sweet time. It's just that I've been real busy (blahblah) and kind of depressed since the year turned… which reminds me… so belatedly: HAPPY NEW YEAR!

To appease you guys I'm giving you not only this chapter, the last, but also the sequel at the same time. BOOM! Haha. I figured I could live with uploading two chapters at once for one time…

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR STICKING WITH THIS. GAH, I LOVE YOU ALL.

**xx**

"I'm back for work," Bryan said, then cleared his throat before continuing, "If you want me back, that is."

Roma didn't look very concerned; after his eyes fell fleetingly on Bryan he returned to what had him busy: preparing a design for a customer.

"Your job is still yours," he said, shrugging, "I didn't want to terminate it before I was certain that you quit."

Bryan stared at him in surprise, "I—I'm not _quitting_," he stammered.

"Then there is no problem, is there?" Roma asked, looking up again, "Well, apart from the fact that you didn't show up for close to a week."

Bryan looked away immediately, feeling guilty, but Roma waved him down before he could answer to that.

"This is not the time nor place to discuss this," the man said, motioning subtly to where close by Andrei was inking a client, "Later."

Nodding, Bryan turned away immediately. He was relieved that it was to be postponed, if he was honest with himself. He now felt extremely foolish for convincing himself to stay away like he had—it wasn't a smart or credible thing to do in issues relating to employment. To Roma he had probably seemed like an immature, irresponsible idiot. _Which I am, _Bryan consented with a mental sigh. This had to get fixed.

It was when Bryan had stepped out the backdoor into the dead end alley for a smoke break did Roma seek him out. Bryan was glad that he'd just lit his cigarette; he had something to busy him from the rather scrutinizing gaze of his boss.

Roma's method was a prompt, "Yes?"

It was as though Bryan had spoken first. Bryan figured it was fair: he was the one with explaining to do.

"What I did was stupid," he said directly, not caring to beat around, "I should have showed up to work like always."

Roma seemed to consider this for a moment before answering with, "All of your missed appointments I either rescheduled or reassigned to Andrei or myself."

"Fuck," Bryan said in frustration, wanting to smack himself in the face. He turned to his boss with a sigh, "I'm sorry. I really am."

"I wanted to still give you a chance because you really have the talent," Roma said in explanation of why Bryan's ass hadn't been booted to unemployment yet. Then he added, "And I do like you."

Bryan took furious drags, not knowing how to answer. What was he supposed to say to that?

Roma crossed his arms and clarified after a moment, "As an employee. As a person."

"What... happened, Roma," Bryan muttered, shaking his head, "It wasn't meant to. And I know it was my fault. I just didn't know how to deal with it because, well, I really can't give you anything." He finished his sentence with a meaningful look, not interested in getting too detailed.

Roma's cool expression actually melted into a small grin, "I _know_," he said, "That was obvious, I would think." At Bryan's uncomfortable aura in remembering the events of that night he continued, "It shouldn't have happened, you're right. And I share some of the blame as well. But it's just that..." and now he hesitated, making Bryan turn back to him. It was uncharacteristic for Roma to be uncertain.

"Never mind," Roma finished, then turned with the intention of heading back inside, "Don't be too long."

Bryan's curiosity got the best of him. He thoughtlessly grabbed Roma's arm to stop him, and Roma responded to the touch by pausing.

"I... want to know," Bryan told him, when the man had sent him a questioning look.

Roma blinked at him in surprise before venturing with, "Perhaps that wouldn't be advisable."

Bryan quickly considered the repercussions. After exchanging hand jobs with his boss he doubted anything could be worse, and his curious side wouldn't let it go.

"My problem," he pointed out.

"Oh, alright," Roma shrugged, "It's just... well, when I was around seventeen was the first time I realized that I was attracted to men," his words made Bryan wonder what this had to do with anything but the man ploughed on, "And not only that, but attracted specifically to my best friend's older brother. I never spoke to him, just came across him sometimes, but I was really deeply in. You might have been in that kind of situation," he related. Bryan could semi-understand; he was extremely carried away for a boy, but that boy was mostly a constant and heavy presence in his life. Roma continued, "Of course, I never told him anything. Moved away later, never saw him again. And before you start thinking that I must be _that_ old—" he held a hand up, making Bryan smirk, "There _is_ a point. You remind me a lot of him. Not in looks, exactly, but in personality maybe. There's just something about you two. I do find you attractive," Roma added firmly, not shying away from that fact, "But I was never looking for a relationship, if that's what you thought. Maybe I just regret leaving my first infatuation a big 'what if'."

Bryan snuffed out his cigarette and contemplated the this revelation for a long moment. Roma's words had somehow hit him a bit harder than he expected or would willingly let on. All the while Roma watched him in silence, perhaps expecting an answer to find out if that _had_ been too much to share.

"I find you attractive too, you know," was what was Bryan said at last, not certain whether he really should've. But the least he could do was return the honesty.

A tenseness in Roma's shoulders Bryan had not noticed before eased. He raised an eyebrow in amusement, "I could've guessed at that."

"But I'm not in for anything," Bryan added just to be clear, "I'm..." he trailed off, not knowing how or whether he should give reasoning.

"After someone?" Roma caught on, and at Bryan's unresponsiveness said, "Let's get back to work, this has taken long enough."

In the backroom Roma shot Bryan a look, "Not so easy, though. You'll do extra time for all the trouble your stubbornness caused."

Bryan nodded solemnly.

"Yes, sir."

xx

"How's it going?"

Bryan turned to find Sergei, still in sleepwear, standing at the kitchen doorway. He turned back to the sandwich he'd been cramming into his mouth.

"Fine," he said, after chewing immensely and swallowing, "You?"

Sergei shrugged, "Alright." Then he eyed him curiously, "Have somewhere to be this early?" He motioned to Bryan's attire and demeanor.

Bryan threw the last bite into his mouth, downed it with his glass of juice, and then rubbed at his neck in a rather worn out way. "Well, I don't _have_ to this early," he amended, "But I want to go. I was thinking of heading down to the shop."

The blonde blinked owlishly at him. "The shop's not open until noon. That's four hours from now," he pointed out.

"I know," Bryan said, rolling his eyes, "Considering I work there. No, I wanted to go and work on prepping for my next few appointments. I, uh, have quite a lot of work these days."

"And how are you getting in?"

"Spare keys," Bryan responded, leaning back against the counter.

Now Sergei's confusion definitely turned into suspicion.

"You haven't been normal since that night you came barging in after work," he said firmly, "You had a 'break' after that and then you go back and suddenly you're doing odd things like going to the shop at _eight in the morning_."

_Break_ was said with a skeptical emphasis. Bryan fidgeted uncomfortably. It was true he'd been keeping odd hours for the past few days since he'd returned to work. It wasn't Roma's fault—the man had basically given him free will even in his own punishment. That had made Bryan take it more seriously. He'd found more use in the spare key he'd been given upon beginning work at the shop. Whereas it used to be for opening and closing shop whenever Roma or Andrei (who also had one) couldn't be there, it now found a greater purpose. He was now using it to access the little shop at will, spending personal hours to prepare for the greater number of appointments he was taking in order to prove himself. While at his work place he did things like draw out tattoos, create stencils, improve designs, and plan his schedule. In an ironic manner, the greater amount of pressure he was putting himself under was somehow freeing.

Bryan finally sighed when he realized that Sergei was still looking at him expectantly. "Get some coffee or something. I'll tell you."

And so, facing each other at the kitchen table a few minutes later, Sergei's hand wrapped around a coffee mug, Bryan deemed to tell him of the occurrences of the past while.

"I know you're straight and that you probably wouldn't want to know in any case considering we're like brothers, so I'll keep to as few details as possible," Bryan started, and then smirked at Sergei's cautious expression, "Well, want to know or not?"

"Little to no details, preferably none? Yes. Otherwise no," Sergei answered firmly, catching Bryan's meaning, "Does this involve Yuri?"

Bryan wanted to face-palm. "Look, no. This is about work," he took a deep breath and then said, "You know that night everyone likes to constantly mention? First, I'd like to insist that I didn't come _barging _in. I just came…" he floundered for the right word.

Sergei raised his eyebrow in amusement and helpfully finished for him, "Barging in."

Bryan groaned, "Whatever. In however way I came in, I was utterly angry and disgusted at myself. I couldn't believe I kept doing the same stupid things."

The hulky blonde took a long sip of his beverage and then said, "Finally facing reality?"

"You're not helping," Bryan threw back.

"Sorry," Sergei smiled slightly, "What was it this time? With keeping in mind little to no details."

Bryan looked away in slight embarrassment. Was he really about to admit to Sergei what had happened? "Well, uh…" he stalled, "I kind of… uh… exchanged hand jobs with Roma," he blurted out.

Sergei choked on his coffee. His sputtered, coughed, and then glared at Bryan, "I _just_ _said _little to no details."

"That was as vague as it could get," Bryan argued.

"You could've said—oh never mind," Sergei sighed, shaking his head, "Roma. Your boss?"

"Yes," Bryan confirmed, "He came on to me, but I could've stopped it. I didn't. In fact I was the one who uh, kissed him first."

Sergei digested this information before allowing himself to take another sip. "And?"

"And?" Bryan threw back, "I shouldn't have. I was kind of running away from it when I told you I was on break. It's fine now, we worked it out after I went back. But I was—and still am—just, I don't know. Frustrated at myself."

"So you're punishing yourself by going to work at eight in the morning?" Sergei asked.

"No," Bryan chuckled, "I'm doing that because Roma wasn't too thrilled about my ditching work like that. And it makes me feel better."

"So why are you frustrated anyway?"

"Well… that's another story to tell…" Bryan started hesitantly and at Sergei's look told the blonde, with little to no details, about Yuri kissing him a while back. Or having tried to, anyway.

"And I pushed him _away_," Bryan all but exclaimed, running a hand through his hair somberly, "I don't know if I should have. I told him not to unless he meant it, so he just left. At the time I thought that I wanted all or nothing but I don't know. It's insane."

"So," Sergei started slowly, "How does this have anything to do with the work story?"

"Well, after Yuri… after _that _I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't just do things with anyone like I used to. I figured I should either wait to move on or for Yuri to change his mind. Both highly unlikely," he added with a miserable sigh.

"So you can't keep promises to yourself, so now you're angry, and…" Sergei outlined, waving a large hand about, "Now what?"

"_I don't know_," Bryan pronounced, "Advice?"

"To be honest? Your make your own life more difficult," Sergei said simply, "Yuri kisses you, you push him away. You tell him you need him to mean it. He leaves," he turned to Bryan with a rather critical gaze, "That doesn't change the fact that he took _initiative. _He came forward, _you _pushed him away. _You_ have to take the next step."

"What the—next step for what? He said he doesn't know what he wants," Bryan shot back.

"Then get over him."

Bryan stared speechlessly at Sergei, who seemed satisfied as though he'd made a point.

"See?" he clarified, "You won't. You're still on about the issue. At this point you have two choices: forget about it or take the next step. If he can't give you what you want then you have to move on. If you're willing to compromise, maybe temporarily, then you go to him. I said once to stop running away from things, and here it is again. He _kissed_ you," he emphasized, rather in frustration at Bryan's blank face, "Trust me, he wouldn't do that just to play with your head."

Any further conversation was prevented when all of a sudden Yuri marched rather obviously into the kitchen. Bryan's heart missed a few beats; he hadn't heard any footsteps. Yuri was looking straight at him, and there was something in his expression that made it obvious there was no way he hadn't heard a good chunk of the chat. Bryan had been counting on Yuri and Ivan's sleeping habits to keep it unheard. He looked away quickly, feeling extremely uncomfortable, only for his eyes to fall on Sergei. The latter was eyeing him with a challengingly raised eyebrow.

"I… have to go," Bryan decided hurriedly and hightailed it out before further interaction.

xx

Bryan could barely concentrate. His work so far was leaving something to be desired as he attempted drawing out one of the in-line tattoo designs. After eyeing it for a moment, Bryan scrunched up the paper, tossed it into the trashcan, and started all over again.

All he could think about was earlier that morning. What Sergei had said caused a simultaneous uncertainty and hope within him, which in turn caused him to be even more frustrated. Bryan was willing to admit that the blonde did have a point, but that didn't necessarily mean that he was right. That Sergei might actually be right was so daunting that Bryan was almost afraid to face the issue. He'd been so desperately in love with Yuri for so long that the possibility of Yuri actually giving him a chance seemed intimidating and surreal.

Also the fact that Yuri might have heard the conversation between Sergei and himself bothered Bryan. He didn't even know _why_; did it really matter? Was anything said in that conversation incriminating or otherwise cause for renewed discomfort between himself and Yuri? Bryan was willing to admit that it all depended on how much Yuri had heard, how the redhead had taken it, and what his reaction to it had been. Three factors that sounded extremely complicating.

"I _have_ to be over-thinking it," Bryan said finally to himself with a sigh.

He pushed the work away and got up with the intention of taking a break. He'd only been there for about an hour but he didn't think he'd be very productive if he stayed.

Maybe he could talk to Yuri later on in the day. Maybe.

xx

His break turned into a two hour and a half expedition into the city. He took advantage of the nice summer weather to just walk around, take in some sights, and then sit at an outdoor café watching the buzz of activity around him.

Bryan mused that it would've been nice for Yuri to be there with him. His thoughts were interrupted with a clatter.

"Oh, dear!" said a fragile voice.

He turned and saw that an old lady had been fallen after being hit by the careless teenager at the next table, who had haphazardly tipped his chair back. Bryan jumped up to help her and retrieve her fallen cane.

"Watch who you're backing into!" he called angrily at the guy, who didn't even have the grace to help his own victim. The little old lady clutched at his arm as she righted herself slightly shakily.

"It was an accident," the guy drawled, not looking very apologetic. He turned back to his group of friends without further ado. One of the friends, a girl, shot Bryan an uncomfortable look. Eyebrows dipping down in distaste, Bryan set the lady into a chair, ignored her plea to let it go, and then all but grabbed the punk out of his chair which, having been balanced on two legs, clattered to the ground.

"Apologize to her, you little rascal," he hissed as the guy struggled against him.

One of the boy's friends jumped up in defense, "Hey! Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

Bryan shot him a glare, "You, keep your mouth shut."

He became aware of every set of eyes in the cafeteria on him with one of the waiters looking like a fish out of water at the display, and finally shoved the boy away, who sneered at him as he staggered back. The group packed up and left immediately, throwing snide parting comments. Bryan ignored them in favor of shooting the onlookers a glare and turning to the old woman.

"Dear, you didn't have to do that," she admonished, "He's just another rude kid, the city's filled with them."

"Are you okay?" Bryan asked.

"I'm fine thankfully. Thank you for being such a sweetheart," she fixed the babushka scarf wrapped around her head and then attempted to get up. Her hand shook as she applied all of her weight on her cane to allow her to do so. Bryan jumped in to help her.

Next thing he knew, he was walking the old grandma to her nearby apartment, taking slow strides in order to keep pace with her. She was rather cheerful and chatty.

"I have bad knees," she was telling him rather enthusiastically for some reason, "So I try to keep giving them some exercise. Especially in the warm months, I try to walk a little everyday. And I've come to like that little café, they have lovely scones. I'm usually safe from being tossed though."

"He was a spoiled imbecile," Bryan scowled upon remembering the incident.

She actually laughed, and her giggles were somehow so infectious that he couldn't possibly remain pissed off. He stared at her in amusement as she patted his arm affectionately.

"It was alright," she informed him, "Because it allowed me to meet such a handsome, charming young man like yourself. Your special lady must be very lucky."

Bryan blinked at her assumption that he was in a relationship. He coughed uncomfortably and said, "I… don't have one."

"Oh?" she said, turning a bright smile towards him. The heavy lines of her face deepened with it but somehow made her look ever sweeter, "That's too bad. Any girl out there would love to be with you."

Bryan was rather flattered into speechlessness even as his thoughts drifted to Yuri, who was most definitely not a girl. He looked into the clear, blue horizon as they continued to trot along and she continued to talk at his side about any and all subjects. He wondered if the nonstop chatter was typical of ladies her age but wasn't bothered. When they reached the right building, she gave Bryan her apartment number and made him promise to drop by for tea sometime.

The experience somehow turned out to be thoroughly soothing.

xx

The sun was setting before Bryan made it back home. He'd gone back to work and attended to his clients, then bid his boss and coworker goodnight and headed out. Overall he'd been gone for over twelve hours and was rather tired and looking forward to a shower and some rest. As he climbed the couple steps to his residence's front door his thoughts returned to Yuri and he thought of his earlier intent to speak to him. Bryan didn't think that this was the right time to do it—perhaps he'd find an opportunity for it tomorrow…

That decision was taken out of his power, however, when he walked in and was intercepted as he was passing the living room. Ivan and Sergei, plus Anna, were watching some comedy on the television. Bryan had barely returned their hellos before he was grabbed and pulled into the kitchen. Yuri pushed him against the wall and Bryan, having tensed at the unexpected interference, allowed himself to relax against it.

"Hey," he said, looking at the other questioningly.

Yuri's hands were on his chest, as though he might try to escape. Bryan thought that that was probably a good precaution. The way Yuri was looking at him made him want to flee.

"I can't give you all, but I don't want the nothing," was Yuri's response, seemingly having waited for Bryan's return all day in order to say this.

Bryan's pulse quickened as he looked upon those features that he loved, which showed nothing but seriousness. The fact that one of Yuri's hands was directly on top of his heart, feeling the quickened beat, made it go even faster. The words had confirmed Bryan's suspicions that Yuri had heard his conversation with Sergei that morning.

He licked his dry lips and asked, "How much did you hear?"

"All of it."

Bryan hands came up, clutched at Yuri's wrists and gently pried the hands away. He didn't let go immediately, but rather allowed the touch to linger as he wondered what the heck he was supposed to say or do now. Bryan thought he needed a few minutes to think his next step based on Yuri's specifications; his heart was flipping in his chest like a landed fish and he was afraid of ruining things somehow.

"I really need a shower," he said truthfully after a moment, and was glad when Yuri simply nodded and stepped away.

Before leaving the kitchen Yuri shot him a look, "Fifteen minutes," he allotted, "My room."

Bryan ran a hand threw his hair and escaped upstairs. He hurried through his shower, preferring to be finished and dressed before Yuri came seeking him out for violating the time limit.

xx

After a quick shower and some quick resolve building, Bryan went to Yuri's room, who shut the door behind Bryan by pushing him against it. This time his body covered Bryan's in an embrace, who breathed deeply to ease his nerves as he wrapped his arms loosely around the redhead's waist.

"I was… waiting for this," Yuri said against Bryan's jaw.

Bryan closed his eyes, overtaken by a sense of fluttering hope, "Why? You said you didn't know what you wanted."

Yuri pulled back slightly to grab Bryan's face and look into his eyes.

"I didn't know what to think," he said firmly, and Bryan watched for a moment as those tempting lips formed the words. He looked back up as Yuri continued, "Maybe I was just waiting for the moment when you realized that you didn't mean it."

"I've _never_ meant something more," Bryan threw back, slightly dismayed, "After all this ti—"

Yuri was looking at him in a way that cut off Bryan's protest. "I _know_," he stated calmly, "I know that now. But I don't—don't know how it is. I want you to _show_ me."

Bryan barely waited for him to finish speaking before his lips landed on Yuri's. For a moment they remained there, just a touch, as they both stilled with the crackle of electricity that it brought. Slowly and hesitantly he began caressing Yuri's lips with his own. He kissed him gently, through simple contact. This was nothing like the sex-driven, passionate kisses he'd shared with others. This was real, about feeling—he was displaying all that was within him for Yuri to take. All the while his heart was thumping frantically in his throat; the moment seemed so breakable. Yuri kissed him back with the same exploratory caution. It was almost as though they were two young boys, discovering for the first time the magical touch of mouth to mouth. The simplicity of it had fiery tingles running down to Bryan's toes.

It didn't last very long. Yuri soon pulled back, fractionally, but his eyes remained closed. Having had nowhere near enough, Bryan began placing feathery kisses on the pale skin of his cheekbones, jaw, over his nose. His touches were slow and tentative, almost without impact. He was much too afraid that Yuri would change his mind. Yuri, however, simply stood within his arms and felt, not responding but not objecting.

Bryan could barely breathe properly; it was all so surreal he was scared of making a wrong twitch and shattering it. Yuri's skin was so warm and smooth beneath his lips, which rejoiced as they trailed that beauty, worshipping it over and over. Bryan's heart felt like it was going to burst from the all of the sensations coursing through it, and it was so intense that he couldn't contain himself from moving to Yuri's ear and breathing, "I love you."

Yuri's demeanor did not change from the words, but after a moment he whispered back, "Why?"

Bryan breathed deeply to shake some of his nervousness away, and his lips pressed against Yuri's cheekbone as he began to recount all the reasons why the redhead was so special to him. He spoke against the soft skin.

"You're smart," he murmured, "And funny—you have this… this unique sense of humor. And you have the most amazing personality, it's so… appealing. Attractive. Even your quirks, like… like how you're obsessed with hair gel and how you get so devious sometimes… it's just, you make me happy… I love your smile. Your hair. Your everything. I just love you, I can't explain it." Bryan sucked in a breath when a tremor ran through Yuri at his words. His heart swelled; he was winging it and had for a moment wondered if he was doing things wrong. He'd never loved, let alone expressed love to, anyone else. "And you know what, Yuri?" he added quietly.

Yuri still didn't open his eyes, but one of his arms wrapped securely around Bryan's waist, as though to anchor them together.

"Mhm?" he hummed.

Bryan bit his lip, then moved to breathe directly into Yuri's ear again.

"You're beautiful."

Yuri's eyes snapped open. Bryan stared, mesmerized; they were such a brilliant blue, and their color was intensified both by the close proximity and the moment. He could see every fleck in those gorgeous orbs.

"You have to give me some time," Yuri said softy, imploring, and he gave Bryan even more hope by reaching for his hand and entwining their fingers together. Bryan clutched back firmly, resting his forehead against Yuri's. He closed his eyes and smiled.

Time.

Yeah, he could wait.

**xx**

Don't stop there! On to the sequel!


	13. About Us

**Sequel**

_5 years later_

**xx**

The crowd was mainly dispersing, though a few lingered behind either by being distracted by someone else lingering behind or as an attempt to be around as long as possible. The bride and groom had recently waved goodbye to their overjoyed guests and hopped into the rented limousine to probably go consummate the marriage. The last stragglers, not looking as fancy as upon arrival from all the celebratory havoc that had occurred during the wedding, continued to wave goodbye and shout congratulations long after the limo had driven away. To their credit, they were all probably a little bit (or really) drunk from the excess of champagne and vodka.

When he could no longer see Anastasia waving enthusiastically out of the open car window with Sergei's huge figure obvious beside her as he too gave a few waves, Bryan headed back inside the rented wedding hall. He scanned the emptying banquet area: the venue's workers were already busy clearing and cleaning up and a few lag-behind guests were just leaving. Off to the side he saw Ivan and his girlfriend lost in an embrace. She was a couple inches taller than him even without the heels she chose to sport for the occasion but the way they eyed each other made the height difference hardly matter.

Bryan's eyes finally caught Yuri, who was standing in a corner talking to an older woman. She was Anastasia's aunt and she had been immensely charmed with the redhead ever since her eyes had set on him. Bryan suspected that she was trying to hook him up with her bachelorette daughter, and he didn't like that fact. At all. Not that he was worried.

"Come here for a moment," he called.

Yuri looked around, saw him, and then said a few words to the woman before extracting himself with a smile. He came to Bryan with an eyebrow raised in question, looking ravishable in his formal attire: a black tuxedo over a light grey shirt and a loosened, blue satin tie that matched his eyes.

"Yes?" he drawled.

Bryan grabbed his hand, mindless of the aunt that watched curiously, and pulled him into the deserted bar area. He closed the doors firmly behind them—he had enough to worry about without being interrupted. Pushing Yuri into one of the stools, he fidgeted for a little before deciding on sitting as well. Yuri watched in confusion as Bryan pulled up a stool for himself and sat down.

"Yuri," he said, reaching forward to hold his hand and looking him straight in the eye, "I… know that I can't marry you legally, but…" he fumbled agitatedly in his pocket for a moment and then pulled out a navy blue ring box. Bryan opened it to reveal two beautiful silver rings studded with sapphire and diamond. He looked into Yuri's captivated gaze again, "Yuri Ivanov, will you be mine forever?"

Bryan breathed deeply after he got it out. He looked at his lover expectantly for an answer, doing his best to seem calm and collected. Yuri was making him nervous; the redhead's expression had not twitched, and he didn't seem anywhere near forthcoming with cries of joy and affirmation.

Bryan waited on eggshells.

Yuri quirked an eyebrow again. "I don't know," he said slowly, "Forever is such a long time."

Bryan bit his lip, looking away. He clutched the ring box tightly, refusing to admit defeat before he heard the official 'no'. They'd been together for nearly five years, but it was still possible that Yuri just wasn't ready to promise such a commitment. Bryan had considered that—so why was there still a tight twinge in the pit of his stomach…

"I can accept based on one condition," Yuri informed him, making Bryan look back.

"Yes?" he asked breathlessly.

Yuri leaned close in until they were almost nose to nose.

"That you be mine forever, too."

His face finally broke into the smile he'd apparently been holding back. Bryan stared at him in something akin to shocked relief, but any protest was snuffed out when Yuri leaned all the way in and kissed him soundly on the lips. Bryan's hand snaked around his neck to secure him in place as he kissed back fervently. When they pulled back, Yuri offered his left hand to Bryan, who chuckled as he slipped the band around Yuri's ring finger. He then brought the hand to his lips and kissed it gently, until Yuri pulled it back to slip the second ring onto Bryan's own hand.

"I can't believe you just did that to me," Bryan sighed, as Yuri got up to stand behind him and begin to gently massage his shoulders.

"You deserve it, for thinking that I would say no," Yuri smirked.

"Mhmm," Bryan replied unintelligibly, closing his eyes, as Yuri's talented fingers worked their magic, "I love you," he said softly after a moment.

Yuri stopped and, with his hands clutching at Bryan's shoulders, leaned down from behind to speak into his ear.

"Then take me home," he ordered quietly, his lips skimming Bryan's ear lobe, "And make love to me."

Bryan reached back and grabbed him, and the next thing they knew was Yuri straddling Bryan on the thankfully sturdy stool as they kissed passionately. Yuri's hands were stationed almost painfully at Bryan's waist while Bryan's hands clutched at the crimson locks he'd always loved. Bryan rocked against Yuri's ass and the redhead pulled back with a gasp.

"_Now_, Bryan," he panted.

Bryan didn't need telling twice. He grabbed Yuri's hand and they all but ran to the parking lot.

xx

The trip home was nothing short of torturous, with stolen touches and kisses, until finally they made it and ripped the clothes off each other. Bryan shoved Yuri back on the bed with an explosive urgency.

Yuri slid back higher against the bed, making space for Bryan who was quick to follow. The foreplay was a love session in itself; lips worshipped and hands glorified as they took turns expressing their love. Several times Yuri bucked against Bryan, driving him crazy as streaks of pleasure coursed throughout their bodies. The passion of their touches almost seemed to crackle tangibly in the air. There was never a union between them that wasn't mind blowing, as though it was the first. This time, however, the fervor was more intense than it had ever been. It was simply unexplainable.

Bryan grunted lustily at the sounds Yuri was making while he sucked on the sensitive spot on the redhead's neck. Yuri arched against him, one of his hands caressing Bryan while the other clutched his nape and brought his lover's lips to his. They sucked and nipped and tongued frantically, their love raging and fiery between them.

Bryan was already fully hard now, and he grunted again, through gritted teeth, when Yuri's long fingers rubbed the leaking pre-cum around his tip then began to stroke him, all the while staring straight into his eyes.

"I need you inside me," he breathed in request.

Bryan groaned and leaned down, kissing at Yuri's pale neck as his hand wrapped around Yuri's so that they guided his erection into the correct position together. He leaned back slightly, needing to see Yuri's expression when he finally entered him. Yuri's hands were on Bryan's waist, urging him to do it. The penetration came fast and hard, Yuri's mouth opening wide and his eyes closing tightly as he trembled, causing Bryan to shudder. It took all of Bryan's self control not to thrust; he waited until Yuri's clouded eyes opened again before slowly pulling back and moving back in using the same pace.

Yuri breathed harder with the motion, "Faster," he moaned.

Bryan braced himself on either side of his lover to lean down fully. He placed his lips against his lover's pink, swollen ones and said, "No. I want to make loveto you."

Yuri's arms snaked around his shoulders and neck, keeping Bryan in place as he kissed him and moaned against his mouth. Bryan moved at the right pace, not fast but not too slow, savoring every moment and every streak of pleasure that raced between them. He grabbed Yuri's bottom lip between his teeth and sucked gently, while one of his hands came up and began stroking Yuri's erection in time with his rocking. Yuri met his thrusts, moving his body deliciously against Bryan's and making him groan in euphoria.

An overflow of pleasure and passion had them moving harder and faster against each other in uncontainable desire near the end. Yuri's legs had locked behind Bryan's back, tensing and shuddering with every deep thrust. Bryan pulled back so he could see Yuri, whose eyes were slits as they brought each other to completion.

Their ring hands met and entwined as utter bliss finally overtook, one after the other so that they rode the climax together.

Bryan's placed light kisses along Yuri's shoulders and torso until his lover came fully back to. Yuri's hands tangled shakily in his hair, pulling up gently so that he could look into Bryan's face.

"I love you, Borya," he murmured tenderly, "I love you so much."

Bryan placed his forehead against Yuri's. He used his arms to support his own weight so that his body covered Yuri's like a blanket. He closed his eyes, feeling utterly spent and satiated.

"I love you too," he returned sincerely, before his arms wrapped around the form underneath him and rolled them over so that Yuri was now on top, "I'm yours. forever."

"And me yours. You marked me twice," Yuri smiled faintly down at him.

Their rings clicked together as their left hands joined once again and their legs entangled. Bryan's other hand swept over Yuri's back, where encompassing his shoulders was a tattoo of the most magnificent Gyrfalcon spread-eagled in flight, presented in all it's glory in impeccable detail.

"True," Bryan murmured, smiling, then kissed Yuri's nose once and pulled him snuggly against his chest. Yuri nestled his head beneath Bryan's chin and murmured things to him until he himself fell asleep.

Eyes shut tight, Bryan marveled not for the first time about how secure and fulfilling the weight of Yuri on top of him felt. He listened to Yuri's deep breathing, slowly drifting off himself. Then he remembered something spontaneous and his smile grew wider.

Anastasia was right, all those years ago. It _wasn't_ about Bryan.

Yuri and Bryan. It was about them together.

**xx**

**Note**

For anyone who was confused: by marked twice, Yuri means the 'forever' rings and the tattoo on his back. Because yes, if you haven't guessed, Bryan tattooed him, and the Gyrfalcon is the one Yuri loved from Bryan's sketchbook (see chapter 11). Sorry I didn't write that scene.

Anyway…

OMG OMG OMG. –hyperventilates-

IT'S OVER. It's really over. –melts into goo-

This is it. Thanks to everyone who stuck by this story to the end, and special thanks to everybody who reviewed. I wrote this sequel because the story ends with a question (and without Bryan/Yuri smut!) and so I really hope that you liked it.

Please leave a review. I would love that.

Peace out! Until next time, with (MAYBE) the next Bryan/Yuri fic.


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